Six Years
by Lexii5297
Summary: For six years his obsession to find out the truth to what happened to his brother grew; hunting down and seeking revenge for the demon who stole his brother away. Six years later, Dean begins working on a case; and finds video footage of his brother being possessed and killing an innocent man in the most brutal way- Catch is: He's not being possessed.
1. One Mistake

**Disclaimer: Don't own.**

**A/N:**

**Beginning:  
Dean: aged 14  
Sam: aged 10**

**First Supernatural fanfic, so please be nice :-)  
Mistakes are all mine ):  
Love reviews and feedback! So please, if you think it's even mildly good, or even terrible please tell me!**

**And of course;  
Enjoy!**

**-Lexii xo  
**

**Chapter One- One Mistake**

"_Dean."_

"_Yes sir."_

"_Remember…"_

"_Salt lines on the doors and windows; close the shades; don't pick up the phone unless they ring once and call back, because then it's you; lock all the doors and windows; and if something tries to bust in, shoot first ask questions later."_

_John smiled and gently ruffled his eldest son's hair, before reaching down and retrieving the large worn out duffle bag from the stingy motel floor. Heaving it over his shoulder he made his way towards the wooden door, before turning around and once again facing his eldest son._

"_And most importantly?"_

"_Watch out for Sammy. I know Dad okay? We've been over this like a million times. I'm not stupid."_

"_I know you're not Dean. But this stuff is important. It only takes one mistake, just one mistake that could mean the difference between life and death."_

_-x-_

_The heat was excruciating. _

_It was as if the stale and bitter motel room had no source of ventilation in it to allow any source of fresh air into the small room. For hours Dean had attempted to fix the small box considered to be an air conditioner, but he just finally resulted to folding miscellaneous pieces of paper together to create small handheld fans for both him and Sam.  
Not exactly the most ideal method for cooling off; but hey, desperate times called for desperate measures; and with years of experience on the road travelling from state to state, school to school, sleazy motel room to sleazy motel room they had learnt to adapt and be grateful for whatever resources they were given; no matter how small or impractical they may seem to be. _

_They hoped that the high temperatures would cease as night fell. But there was no such luck._

_Sweat coated both their bodies as the air was so thick and humid their lungs were struggling to allow the vital air to seep into them. The excess moisture on their skin made them feel even more sluggish and heavy, making them not even want to move._

_Dean laid with his hands folded under his head and pillow, eyes closed in a pathetic attempt of trying to trick his body into falling asleep. _

_Dean usually craved silence. Silence usually meant he could finally stop worrying about any supernatural beings. But tonight, tonight was different. They were on the outskirts of town, practically next to the woodland area. But as much as he strained his ears he could not indicate any sign of life outside these four walls. No sign of any humans, hell not even any signs of animals. _

_Mindlessly he stroked the serrated edge of his silver hunting knife he held under his pillow; a method he would use regularly to ease his mind and remind him he had some way to protect him, and especially Sammy from any sort of threat; human or supernatural._

"_Deannnnnnn." Whined the ten year old boy as he strained to pull Dean's bicep away from under his head in an attempt to wake his apparent sleeping brother._

"_What is it Sammy?" Dean sighed, keeping his eyes firmly closed. He knew what was wrong. It didn't take a genius to know the heat was starting to take its toll._

"_Can you please open a window or something Dean?"_

"_Sammy you know I have to keep all the doors and windows locked and secure. Those are the rules." He sighed once again as his father's rules drifted into his mind. He would have killed to open a window and allow the cool air to enter the room._

"_I can't breathe properly Dean." Sammy whined, though not as pleading as before, it was almost if he was scared. _

_Dean turned his head towards his brother and opened his eyes, trying to hold back the gasp that almost escaped his mouth as he devoured Sammy's appearance._

_The ten year old's eyes were big and wild, darting around as Sam tried to focus solely on Dean. His bangs were drafted to his forehead in a slick layer of sweat; but what disturbed Dean more was the erratic movement of Sam's chest as his lungs struggled to allow air to enter his system. _

_Immediately Dean sat up, gripping the youngster's shoulders, immediately recoiling his hands at the touch as the heat radiated off Sam's bare skin._

"_Sammy, go have a cold shower now. It'll help." he smiled, hoping to settle the worried glance on the youngster's face._

"'_Kay." Sam replied simply, allowing a small smile to drift over his face before he entered the moderately clean bathroom and shut the door behind him._

_Dean sat there staring into the nothingness as time slowly ticked by, the lack of sleep finally beginning to take its toll. He shook his head to rid the fatigue as he made his way to the rusted window, careful not to damage or destroy the carefully placed salt lines on the sill._

_After a few moments of attempting to open the rusted window Dean finally admitted defeat. _

"_You stupid piece of-"_

"_Dean, windows can't talk." Sam teased, causing Dean to slightly jump from the sudden and unexpected voice, banging his hip harshly on the window sill, causing the glass to rattle gently._

"_Son of a bitch." He hissed through clenched teeth, ignoring the amused look on the youngster's face. "Feel better?" he asked, overlooking the searing pain as he redirected his attention to his younger brother._

"_Yeah heaps. Thanks Dean." Sam smiled as he made his way to his allocated bed, Dean following to his, ignoring the throbbing pain on his hip._

_The lights flickered on and off repeatedly, and at that moment Dean knew something was terribly wrong in the pit of his stomach._

_The window that had remained rusted shut just moments before flew open, allowing a heavy gust of wind to enter the room._

"_Watch out for Sammy…." His father's words echoed into his mind and Dean's head instantly jerked upwards to the wide eyed youngster before him._

"_Sammy! Hide! Now!" Dean screamed, running to grab his hunting knife from under his pillow. _

_Sam threw his head around frantically, trying to look for some place to hide._

"_Bed! Sammy go!" Dean screamed, as he saw the lone figure walking triumphantly towards the open window._

_Sam dived under the bed, struggling to manoeuvre his way through the low frame. He gasped in pain as his shoulder collided with the thick wooden beams, but quickly shut his mouth as he crawled closer into the darkened corner against the wall. _

_Dean breathed heavily as he moved against the wall; his knife gripped so tightly his knuckles turned white. He scanned under the bed and was relieved that it was near impossible to see Sam unless you physically lowered yourself to the ground._

_Sam's big brown fearful eyes stared straight into Dean's fierce emeralds, silently seeking reassurance and any sign of hope to ease his fears._

"_It'll be okay Sammy." Dean smiled, not entirely believing the words escaping his own mouth. His smile faded as fast as it appeared, a look of pure worry and determination now taking its place. "No matter what happens, no matter what he might do to me, never tell him or make any indication where you are okay Sammy? Promise me Sammy."_

_Sam flinched as the haunting possibilities came out of Dean's mouth._

"_Promise me Sammy." Dean pleaded, the fear of not for his own life, but for Sam's present in his eyes._

_As much as he didn't want to, he allowed his head rise and fall, signifying and supporting Dean's possible death wish._

_Once satisfied that Sammy was safe Dean turned and faced the open window, his knife held firmly before him. _

"_Who are you?!" he demanded to the stranger, his stance tall and intimidating._

_The stranger smiled a haunting smile and moved closer. His stride proud and conceited._

"_Stay away!" Dean gruffly said, thrusting the knife into the bare air to present some sign of threat._

_The laugh the stranger released confused Dean for a moment, just long enough for the stranger to raise his hand and swiftly swipe it to the side, sending Dean flying into the opposing wall and into the world of unconsciousness. _

_-x-_

_A punch._

_A kick._

_Repeated over and over again, countless times._

_He felt the blood seep from his wounds, blurring his vision as another piece of skin was ripped apart by the sharp silver, slowly and torturously. _

_The thick rope dug into his wrists as he struggled against his bonds, sending a never ending wave of pain shooting up his now numb arms._

"_Where is he?!" the shadowy figure hissed, vibrating into his ear and causing the hair on the back of his neck stand straight up._

"_He's gone. I made him run." He replied, trying to control the stability in his voice as he lied through his clenched teeth._

"_Liar!" The stranger screamed, connecting his clenched fist to the bound teenager before him, an ever-too familiar metallic taste immediately dissolved onto his tongue. The teenager readjusted his jaw and spat towards the stranger, the dark crimson saliva landing swiftly on the strangers face, contrasting the paleness of his skin._

_The stranger's brown eyes flickered into non-existence as blackness stained the entire eye as it wiped the spit away._

"_Demon. Shit." Dean silently swore, keeping his face frozen in an emotionless mask, not reflecting the pain and the sudden hit of worry and panic that shot through him like a bullet as the stranger neared the furthest sunken motel bed, concealing the frightened ten year old underneath it._

_The demon twirled the razor sharp silver knife between his two thumbs, sinisterly smirking at the helpless teenager tied to the sturdy wooden chair before him. He moved closer to Dean, taunting him as the demon dangled the knife infront of his darkened emerald eyes._

"_You know I've been following you since Illinois?" the demon smirked, circling slowly around him. "Breaking the salt line Dean? Tsk Tsk. I've been waiting for so long for you to make one stupid little mistake. What happened tonight Dean? You were always so careful, so thorough with these petty attempts of keeping us away, from getting what we want."_

"_You're never getting Sam you son of a bitch!" Dean sneered, anger radiating through his veins and rolling off his tongue._

"_We shall see about that." The demon quietly sneered into his ear as he moved back infront of Dean. "First, I'm going to plunge this knife into you…. Right here." The demon smirked, plunging the silver blade deep into Dean's lower abdomen. Instinctively Dean coiled over, allowing a small grunt of pain to escape his clenched lips. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, not in an attempt to tolerate and ease the pain surging through him, but silently praying to himself that Sammy would stay hidden and not get himself noticed._

"_And no Dean, it's not going to kill you. Not just yet anyway. I have so much more in store for you." He smiled and reached for Dean's ring finger on his hand which was bound tightly to the handle of the chair. "You know Sam, you can stop this. Come with me and I'll let your brother live. If not…. Well, I'm going to cut off each one of his fingers one at a time, straight through the bone."_

_The bottom of his grey t-shirt was now soaked in dark red crimson that was slowly bleeding out from the stab wound. Admitting defeat Dean hung his chin against his chest, trying to mentally prepare himself for the pain he knew he was about to endure._

_The demon smiled as he watched the young teenager squirm and struggle to hold in the scream that was dying to get out. Once he finally broke and the scream was unleashed he knew that it wouldn't be long until Sam was all his…_

_Dean locked his jaw and clenched his teeth together with so much force it began to ache as he tried to withhold the scream that was dying to escape as the knife sliced open his flesh, the serrated edge rocking back and forth deep into his bone. _

_But the additional pain was too much to bear from the constant and painful beating; not to mention the strenuous torture and stab wound. Regardless of the desperation he was feeling to hold it in, Dean finally admitted defeat and allowed all the pain and anguish that was fighting to escape._

_Sam held down the bile in his throat as he watched the blood seep out of his elder brother. He wanted to do something, anything to help Dean. But he promised Dean. It took all his strength not to get up and reveal himself the moment he saw Dean fly across the room and collapse into a heap like a broken rag doll._

_It took all he had not to attack the monster that was tying up his brother just a few metres infront of him. But with every punch, kick and cut that was made on his brother's body he felt the force trying to control his body to stay in that location slowly chip away. _

_He almost flew out from under the bed the second he saw that knife lunge into Dean, he only didn't due to the fact he hit his head on the giant wooden beams above him, his gasp masked by Dean's hiss of pain._

_But the moment that scream escaped Dean's mouth, he couldn't. He just couldn't watch his brother, the only one who was there for him the moment he was born, the one who taught him everything he knew, how to walk, how to talk, how to read and how to write give up his life for Sam. Dean had already given up so much of his life for him, trying to give Sam the childhood Dean never got to experience, and Sam wasn't just going to allow Dean to sacrifice anything else for him._

"_Stop!" Sam screamed, crawling his way out from under the low frame. "Stop hurting him! I'm here! Let him go! Stop it!"_

_The demon turned towards the small boy, smiling in victory. _

"_Sammy ….no….. Run…. Please….." Dean begged breathlessly, barely able to speak._

"_Well, well, well. Isn't it the infamous Sam Winchester. We've been waiting for you Sam."_

_Sam felt the blood drain from his face as the sentence rolled off the demons tongue. He clenched his fists in an attempt to calm himself but with little to no effect._

"_Let Dean go." He said as strongly as he could, trying to mask the fear and uncertainty that coated his tone. _

"_And you will come freely with me?" The demon asked, eyebrow cocked at the loyalty between the two brothers._

_Sam glanced to Dean, strung over the chair, struggling to keep his head up. _

"_Yes."_

_The demon smiled even wider, opening his arm he ushered the boy to come to his side._

_Sam swallowed hard and he felt tears forming in his eyes, forcing the barricade not to break as he made his way towards the demon._

"_No! Don't you dare touch him you son of a bitch! Sammy don't do this!" Dean gruffly shouted, a sudden burst of adrenaline overtaking him, giving him the much needed motivation to continue to fight and protect his brother. "Please." His voice broke, the barrier failing and the tears began to freely fall, mixing with the dry and wet blood that coated his face._

"_I think that's enough out of you!" the demon hissed, connecting his fist with the side of Dean's head, the impact instantly making Dean's body limp and unresponsive._

"_No!" Sam screamed, fighting his way towards his brother._

_The demon gripped the thrashing young boy around the waist and shoulder blades, limiting Sam's movement as he dragged the youngster towards the motel door._

"_Dean! Please! No! Dean!"_

_-x-_

He leapt upwards, his body cased in a cold sweat as the scream echoed over and over again in his head, haunting and tormenting him as it did every time he allowed himself to fall into the abyss of sleep.

He harshly covered his face with his hands and wiped downwards, relieving himself from the unwanted sweat and tears that seemed to cascade down his face. His breath was jagged and thick, causing his chest to inflate and deflate erratically as his body struggled to return it back to a normal rate and regain its composure.

He cursed as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, resting his chin against his chest as he tried to normalise his entire body. The heat that radiated from him was extinguished as a cold gust of wind escaped through the narrow opening of the broken window in yet another cheap and sleazy hotel, a sight he had grown used to seeing for the majority of his life on yet another regular occurrence.

"Six years. Six fucking years." He growled; his tone a mixture of hurt, anger and pain as the realisation of how long it had actually been finally settled in.

He just sat there, trying to sort through the thousands of memories, images and sequences that trespassed his mind, overtaking it, forcing his mind to think irrationally and crazed.

He had been told he was lucky. Lucky he had survived against a "sadistic murderer" as the police had dubbed it. He had been told he had only been minutes away from death if his father and Bobby hadn't had come when they did.

But Dean sure as hell didn't feel lucky. One stupid mistake had cost him the most important thing in the world. Dean would have given anything to trade places with Sam, even if that meant he would be in a wooden box six feet underground.

"_Shoot first, ask questions later…"_

How could he have been so stupid?!

He repeated those lines just hours earlier yet when it came down to it Dean the exact opposite. For years he had lived by those words. Memorising them, repeating them, day after day, it was basically his way of life. But it just flew out of his mind within a second. And that one second cost him Sam.

Evidence from that night was still present on his body. Countless scars trailed his body, forever haunting him and reminding him of _that _night at every glance. The two most noticeable scars were thick scar now had permanent residence in his lower abdomen, and the jagged scar hidden under the metallic band of the finger he still wasn't able to fully use.

Dean was just grateful he didn't need it to shoot a gun.

But the bruises and scares could not compare to the pain and emptiness that gnawed at his heart as each day had slowly passed, another day without Sammy, another day without being a step closer to finding out just where his little brother had been for the past six years.

He didn't know how long he sat there, how many minutes or seconds passed by. He was numb and vacant from the revolving world outside the sleazy hotel room. He loathed the happiness and oblivion people shared. He loathed the fact they were hidden from the terrifying truth of what creatures were really out there, what sick, evil, twisted creatures were hidden in plain view, some with the craving for normality, others for the lust of blood. And sometimes he loathed the fact he wasn't one of them, that he knew the true horrors behind all those supernatural.

Maybe if he didn't Sam would still be with him now.

Sometimes he wished he never had to experience and witness the shock horror of the terrifying reality and scenarios that still made his skin crawl. But he knew; he knew it was his duty, his _obligation _to fight against these forces, these creatures.

If he didn't do it, who would?

He slightly jumped as the loud, irritating ringtone of his phone caught him off guard, but quickly regained his composure before getting up and digging through the leather jacket that was slung over the old, dirty chair.

"_Dean?"_

"Hey Bobby." He sighed, sitting back down on the edge of the bed, whilst he ruffled his hair with his free hand, trying to stop the fatigue that washed over him once more.

"_Didn't wake ya did I?"_

"Nah Bobby. What's up? Another case?"

"_Yeah, one up in Phoenix, Arizona. A few cases of unexplained murders, but it sounds like we're dealing with demons. You interested?"_

"Demons? I'll be there in a few hours." Dean said without a moment's hesitation. "See ya Bobby." He rushed, already moving the device away from his ear.

"_Dean wait!"_

Dean forced himself not to let out a grunt of frustration as he raised the phone back up to his ear. "Yeah Bobby?"

"_Dean, I just wanted to say…"_

"Oh great. Here it comes." Dean murmured silently and bitterly in frustration. He was not in the mood to hear this.

"_John was a good man. And I know how hard it was for you when you lost Sam…"_

As soon as the words escaped Bobby's mouth, Dean felt the fires burn in turmoil deep inside his chest. Anger and disgrace for his actions washed over him as the painful memories flashed before eyes. His emerald green eyes darkened, while the golden flecks became more vibrant as the anger burned through him.

"No Bobby. I didn't _lose_ Sam! He was taken! He was dragged away kicking and screaming while I did nothing!"

'_Dean! I didn't mean it like that! He bet you to a pulp! He bound you, stabbed you and damn well near cut your finger off! Boy you're lucky you even survived! What more could you do?!"_

"I could have saved him." Was the final thing Bobby heard before the ever-too familiar sound of the dial tone drifted into his ear.


	2. Reminders

**A/N- If you think it's any good please review :-)**

**Please Enjoy!**

**-Lexii xo**

**Chapter Two- Reminders**

"Dean? Dean?! Christ!" Bobby yelled before he threw the phone across the wall in frustration. Bobby let out a piteous sigh of annoyance before his tense body subsided, only to be replaced with devastation and anguish when he saw the old tattered photograph that was placed in the upper right corner of the fridge.

He walked up to it slowly as goosebumps pierced his skin in a singular wave, causing the hair on the back of his neck to stand. His eyes reflected the emotional hurt he was feeling. Sure, it may have been six years, but it doesn't mean that every day that goes past makes it any damn easier to deal or to even accept what had happened.

Like father like son, John and Dean both put up a strong exterior to mask the pain they were feeling since that fateful night, but Bobby knew them too well and could easily see past their pathetic act. He knew how much it had changed them, both of them, and definitely not for the better.

Bobby had thought John's reaction to Mary's death was bad. But now that he had lost both her and Sam it was like the John Winchester he knew was no more. This obsession to avenge them was eating John alive. Occasionally John would come around to Bobby's every month or so, and Bobby swore as each month went past John would have aged at least three years. John's hair slowly tinged grey, his eyes sunken and hollow and his weight had considerably dropped. Hell Bobby was no mother hen but watching a man that use to hold such grace and glory from hunters everywhere slowly shrivel away freakin' killed him.

And Dean. God Dean. Dean was the closest thing to a son Bobby had, and it killed Bobby watching the barely legal adult contribute every moment of his spear time to this obsession of tracking down the demon responsible for all this pain for tearing their family apart.  
Even in the hospital bed the night after Dean was found he was already ready to hunt down the damn thing; it didn't matter that his finger was frankensteined together or that the slightest movement ripped one of his stitches away, only causing him to bleed more, and doing more harm than good.

But just like John Dean was damn stubborn; Bobby had to give him that.

Dean was as close to death that you could be, yet as he was on the brink of death, soaked in blood, bound to a rotten yet sturdy wooden chair and cold to the touch Dean still forced enough energy to whisper something in Bobby's ear that still haunts him this day;  
"I'm so sorry Sammy…."

The loyalty and dedication that Dean had towards Sam ripped Bobby's heart out of his chest as you could see the weight of the blame Dean placed on his own shoulders, torturing himself each day that passed while Sam was still missing.

As much as Bobby wished he couldn't, he always saw the small sign of resentment of John's face as he looked at his eldest son, before a flash of guilt overrides it, and it was no lie Dean could see the same.

Bobby gently brushed his fingers over the aged photograph, the smiling faces of the two boys now nothing but a distant memory.

-x-

A dusty cloud surrounded the Impala as it pulled up to the rustic restaurant. A fatigued Dean stepped out, almost collapsing from the stiffness and lack of use from his legs.  
He'd been travelling for at least seven hours straight and had almost crashed into three different cars. Not wanting to risk his life, let alone the one of his baby, Dean promptly decided that now was the perfect time for a bathroom break, coffee and of course pie, the ultimate energy booster he desperately needed.

The sweet smell of pie and coffee drifted into his nose, causing his stomach to growl in anticipation.

"Yeah, shuttup." he muttered to the growling monster as he sat down in the booth, kindly taking the menu handed to him from the rather attractive waitress, regardless of the fact he already knew what he was going to order. His eyes drifted to the attractive waitress' behind and an eyebrow rose in satisfaction.

-x-

"_Dean why do you do that?" Nine year old Sam asked rolling his eyes at his older brother._

'_Do what…?' Dean replied, his eyes still firmly glued to the young waitress._

"_That. Stare. It's gross. I'm trying to eat" Sam replied his face scrunched up in a typical nine year old manner._

"_Ahh Sammy, one day you'll understand." Dean smiled at the youngster, reaching over and placing his hand on the youngster's shoulder, slightly shaking him. "Us Winchesters are quite the lady-killers. I'll teach you all about girls one day." He said with a wink as Sam rolled his eyes once more._

-x-

"Can I take your order?"

"What?" Dean asked, snapping out of his flashback.

"What can I get ya?" The blonde smiled, pushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"Uh, just coffee and some of that pie." Dean replied shakily, pointing to the display tray holding some pie.

"Sure darl." She smiled and went to gather Dean's order.

Dean dropped his head into his hands, his breath shaking slightly.

Six years and it still didn't get any easier.

-x-

"Okay that comes to seven fifty." The blonde waitress smiled.

"Yeah okay, just give me a minute." Dean mumbled reaching in his back pocket for his wallet.

"Not a problem, I'll just go serve the couple over there." The waitress smiled pointing to the far corner indicating where she would be, not that Dean cared.

"M'kay."

Dean pulled the tattered wallet from his back pocket and dropped it on the diner table as if it was on fire as the distant memory flashed before his eyes.

-x-

"_Happy birthday Dean!" six year old Sam leaped onto the large sleeping figure._

"_Thanks Sammy." Dean grunted, out of breath as a result to Sam's knee that swiftly went into his stomach._

"_You're eleven now! Eleven!" Sam screeched, more excited for Dean's birthday than Dean himself._

"_Sure am." He smiled sitting upwards on his elbows, his eyes squinted shut from the blinding light shining into his eyes due to the parted blinds of the hotel window._

"_I got you something!" Sam yelled, scrambling off his bed as he rushed towards his large duffle bag, throwing its contents in all different directions of the small room._

"_You got me something-?" Dean asked surprised. It had been years since he had actually received a birthday present. _

_He knew most kids his age would be surrounded in wrapping paper and piles of junk and gifts, but the small package wrapped in an old battered newspaper made his heart sore. It was all he needed._

"_Go on! Open it!" Sammy urged, his big brown eyes hopeful and anxious._

"_Okay! Okay!" Dean laughed, gently tearing away the newspaper to reveal a leather wallet._

"_You know Ms Hardy across from our old hotel in Cali? Well I did lots of work for her while you went with Dad during the day, and she gave me twenty whole dollars Dean. Twenty whole dollars! So I went out and bought this for you." Sam rambled on, before sinking downwards. "Do…..Do you like it Dean?"_

_Dean couldn't help but smile and fought back the tears of happiness that were threatening to leak from his eyes. This was not a chick flick moment. Okay it pretty much was, but he wasn't going to allow himself to believe it._

"_I love it Sammy."_

-x-

Dean's throat tightened. Almost ten years later and the freakin' thing was practically falling apart. Lord knows how much money he'd lost from the broken zipper or giant hole in the side. But of course he didn't care. Sammy gave it to him.

"Ready to pay yet?" The waitress returned, the same smile plastered on her face.

"Here you go." He said, his voice flat as he handed her a ten dollar note. "Keep the change." He huffed as he rushed back to the Impala and collapsed down into the seat.

Six years and it still didn't get any fucking easier.

-x-

"Agent Rivers from the FBI." Dean announced to the local sheriff, flashing him his rather believable fake badge.

"Hello Agent Rivers, Sheriff Baxter." The local sheriff introduced, placing out a hand for Dean to shake.

"Sheriff Baxter." Dean nodded, accepting the handshake.

"So I'm guess you're here about the murders?"

"Was that your first guess?"

"Sorry."

"No need to apologise. So please Sheriff Baxter can you tell me what's been happening?"

"Well in the past two weeks there has been two different murders, each bloodier than the last. The first victim, a Miss Elizabeth Summer was found in her home a few weeks ago. At first we suspected a robbery gone wrong, but it wasn't until our second victim Mr Alexander Grant who was found in his garage we started suspecting a repeat offender who specifically choose these two victims."

"Why do you say that?"

"Well for starters these two had mutual connections. They went to the same highschool together…"

"With all due respect, I'm sure a majority of people in this town went to the same highschool together."

"That's the thing Agent Rivers, they both went to a prestige private religious school in New York."

"That's a fair distance. When did they move here?"

"I believe Miss Summers moved here two years ago, while Mr Grant moved here only three weeks ago."

"A week before the murders?" Dean's eyebrow rose.

"I'm sure this is no simple coincidence."

Dean nodded his head in agreement. "Is there anything else Sherriff?"

"Yes actually, if you could follow me."

Dean followed the Sheriff through the station until he found himself in a small room surrounded by television screens.

"Agent Rivers this is Eric Dopper, he is our surveillance specialist."

"We have surveillance?" Dean asked surprised. "_Why didn't they just started with this."_ He silently growled in his mind.

"We sure do!" Eric exclaimed, clicking on various files on the screen before him. "Our last victim, Mr Grant only may have moved here recently, but we were lucky enough to find that he installed home security just days before his death."

"Okay show me what you got." Dean smoothly said, planting his outstretched arm on the desk next to Eric so he could get a better view of the monitor.

"Warning, it gets pretty horrific." Eric grimaced as he pressed play.

"_I've probably seen worse."_

A lone figure stood in the middle of the screen. The black and white recording slightly fazed, losing a few seconds of footage.  
When the footage recovered two figures now incorporated the image, one obviously Mr Grant, the other unrecognisable as their face stayed hidden in the shadows.

"I don't know where she is!" Mr Grant yelled, his hands raised infront of him in some sort of defence. "Elizabeth took her! I haven't laid a single eye on her! Please don't kill me!" Mr Grant screamed.

The figures armed moved slightly and the full grown man was hurtled into the metal frame of shelving like a rag doll.

Dean's heart raced faster and the eerie déjà vu washed over him.

Another flick of the hand and he was thrown to the opposite side of the room.

"Please stop…" he begged, blood dripping freely from his lip; his nose; his forehead.

The figure stepped into the light; it's back facing the camera, blocking the view for both its face and Mr Grant.

"NOOOOOOO!" was the last thing that was heard until greyed blood from Mr Grant flew out either side of the figure, permanently staining the walls of its horrors.

But it was not witnessing this man's death that caused all the blood to drain from Dean's face.

It was not the blood that seeped from the walls that cause Dean's heart to stop in its tracks.

It was not the echoing screams of the man that cause Dean to almost collapse.

No.

It was the face of the murderous being looking straight into the camera that made Dean's world crumble around him.

It was the face of his brother.


	3. No Mercy Given

**Chapter Three: No Mercy Given**

_Sam fought vigorously against the confining force used from the man, a force too strong for any human to naturally obtain. He could feel the pressure being implemented onto his ribs as they struggled to protect themselves from the unnatural weight they were forced to endure, but he could still feel them becoming weaker and weaker as each second passed._

_His eyes widened in fear as he watched the slumped figure of his brother on the wooden chair slowly become further and further away as the demon dragged him from the dimly lit room; silently searching, praying for any kind of movement or sound to indicate Dean was still alive. _

_He grasped for anything in sight; whether it be a miscellaneous piece of furniture gone astray or even the flat surface of the wall. The open door was nearing closer and the realisation and fear dwelled in him, fear that he would never be able to see his father or brother again, fear for what this monster was planning to do with him._

_With one final attempt Sam flung his arms free from the demon's constricting limbs and desperately grasped for the windowsill, the final chance he had._

_His knuckles turned white as they struggled to keep their grip as the demon was jerking the legs of the small child away from it, becoming more aggressive and more aggressive until the wood of the windowsill now had bloodied scratches carved into it as Sam's hands sild downward losing all his grip as his forehead connected with the sharp edge, than finally the floor._

_Sam kept his hand tightly bound into a fist as he rested his head on the wooden floor, savouring the coldness contrasting the heat from his skin. His legs were still gripped mid-air by the demon. Cloud fogged his mind as he felt the warm crimson trail down to his chin, momentarily blinding him._

_The demon threw Sam's legs onto the ground in haste before bending down and looping his arms around Sam's thin waist before pulling him off the ground. Sam grunted in pain from the sudden movement, sending his brain swirling in his skull. The demon took opportunity in his vulnerability as he swiftly dragged the ten year old boy through the motel room's door and into the cold, brisk night._

_Sam's worn out sneakers dragged through the dirt lifting up a trail of dust circulating in the air in a petty attempt to slow down the unwanted intruder taking him away. He regained his composure and escaped from the clouded mask that blanketed his mind._

_Noting that he was in fact moving, moving away from Dean, he drastically clawed with his unclenched hand at the arms wrapped tightly around him, cursing to himself for constantly chewing his nails as there seemed to be practically no effect._

"_Stop struggling you little brat." The demon hissed through his clenched teeth, pausing as he shook Sam trying to maintain an easier and more comfortable grip. _

"_Bite me." Sam sneered back as he swiftly kicked the back of his heel into the shin of the demon's vessel._

"_You're gunna pay for that." The demon grunted, although no pain was felt. In an attempt to make Sam learn his place, the demon squeezed his arms tighter and tighter around the small boy._

_Sam struggled to breathe as his breath was immobilised by the fire of pain circulating in his chest as his ribs struggled to reinforce the excess weight forcing itself against them. An ear piercing scream escaped his mouth as he felt the first rib give way, causing the most excruciating pain he has ever experienced burn through him.  
He almost missed the second one give way if it had not been for the sickening crack that echoed into the pitch black night._

"_Sammy!"_

_The voice was so quiet and weak it was a miracle Sam had even been able to hear it. But the sound of his name being said by Dean sent a wave of adrenaline forcing though his body, masking the unbearable pain he had been feeling only seconds ago. _

_Sam flew his head backwards, hearing the cartilage of the possessed human's nose echo into his ears, another swift kick from Sam's right foot flew into the vessels groin area. _

"_Did you really think that would hurt me boy?" the demon snickered, amused at the pathetic attempts of the small boy used trying to injure him._

_Sam turned his body so he was now face to face with the demon, a small smile plastered on his face.  
"No. But this will."_

_Sam threw the contents in his clenched fists straight into the demons eyes. The demon doubled over in pain as it desperately grasped for its eyes as the contents of the boys fist made contact with its skin. The sound of sizzling flesh and a wave of a steam like substance rose into the air as the rock salt taken from the windowsill Sam had so desperately clung to imbedded itself into the vessels eyes; causing much more difficulty for the demon to remove and dissolve._

_Sam fought hard against the haziness that clouded his mind as he forced his body to move forward as fast as he was able to through the strenuous and demandingness of his lungs as they burned for air. _

_He knew he should be running off somewhere into the distance, taking this rare opportunity to escape the unspecified doom that was awaiting him. But instead of running blindlessly through the woodland area he found himself back inside the stingy motel room, collapsing from exhausting next to the rotten chair that held his bound brother. _

"_D-Dean." He struggled to force out as he lifted his arm and grasped for Dean's bloodied hand, gripping it tightly as he forced himself upwards onto his knees._

"'_M….'m so sorry Sammy." Dean slurred as his head rocked upwards before collapsing downwards again multiple times._

"_No Dean. I'm the one that's sorry. You didn't deserve this. I should have just been like you and been a man and just tell him where I was. You're the one I look up too. You're the strong one. Fight through this Dean. I know you can. I love you big brother, and don't worry, I'll be okay Dean, I learnt from the best…"_

_A sickening crash vibrated through the small room, followed by a light thump as Sam's body collapsed forward, rendering him completely unconscious, his hand still clutching Dean's._

_The demon wiped the access blood from the serrated knife's handle he had used to knock out the preteen onto the unconscious bound teenager before placing it into his own jacket pocket.  
"What a touching speech." The demon sarcastically spat out as he nudged the ten year old to confirm the state of unconsciousness. "The boss has a lot in store for you boy." He grinned as he scooped up the young child and flung Sam's lifeless body easily over his shoulder before walking out and slamming the door shut._

"_I'm so sorry Sammy…" murmured the fourteen year old before he was now captivated into complete darkness._

-x-

Dean walked out of the Sheriff's station in a daze. The murderous glare that was plastered on the figure's face was permanently stained and unable to be erased from his mind.

It couldn't have been Sam could it? Sure, of course Dean wasn't expecting him to still look like the slightly short and chubby ten year old he was before that fateful night. Sam would almost be seventeen years old. Seventeen. Six whole years without Dean by his side to protect him and do all the brotherly duties he was intended to do.

Dean didn't want to admit to himself that that monster he saw tear away the life from that innocent man without a moment of hesitation was his Sammy; but deep down he knew. The perfect balance of both John and Mary was present in his features, John's eyes staring straight at Dean through the camera lens, although masking any emotions that may have been spiralling through them, while the same form of Marys lips were spread upwards into a twisted smile that sent cold shivers running down Dean's spine.

He mindlessly reached the Impala and collapsed into the seat, resting his head on the leather steering wheel as he forced his eyes closed, trying to expel the unwanted images of that sinister smile out of his mind.

Countless thoughts and emotions battled against one another in his body, trying to succeed and grasp Dean's attention, making him both nauseous and confused as they wrangled in him. His mind searched for some kind of logical explanation of what he had just witnessed, and what the hell had happened to Sammy.

He was taken by demon; that was what Dean was certain of. But knowing this information for the past six years did not ease his mind the slightest bit. His stomach cringed as the possibilities of the horrors and the torture that his little brother may have had witnessed, or worse; endured through for all that time, floated into his mind, haunting his thoughts, regardless of the fact if he was asleep or not.

God he hoped Sam was just possessed. Yes he knew it was selfish to wish such a terrible thing on another human being, but at this point it was the only logical and tolerable answer he could come up with. If Sammy was just possessed then there was a chance that he could save him; save him like he should have six years ago.

If there was more to this than just possession, well Dean knew that he was majorly screwed.

Sighing in defeat and the realisation that he had absolutely no idea how he was going to proceed with this entire situation, Dean decided to call the one person that he knew he could count on.

Bobby.

-x-

Bobby fell backwards onto the old couch. It didn't matter to him that the leather was worn and some of the springs were broken, right now this felt like heaven.

He leaned forward and grabbed onto the freshly cold beer he had been looking forward to savouring all day from the aged coffee table and rose the tip to his lips as he prepared to take his first sip; only to get interrupted by obnoxious ringing of one of his cell phones.

"Son of a-" he cursed, placing the beer bottle down and swiping away the multiple piles of books that covered the surface of the coffee table, until he found the source of the ringing. Glancing at the caller I.D, Bobby's eyes grew wide and he hastily flipped the cell phone open.

"Dean?"

"_Hey Bobby."_

The hesitance and shakiness of Dean voice instantly set warning signals through Bobby's mind.

"Dean, are you okay boy?"

"_Uh- Bobby…"_

Now Bobby knew something was definitely up. It had been a long time since he had heard Dean this tentative, this _vulnerable_.

"Well spit it out why don't 'cha!" The impatience was wearing thin as multiple scenarios flashed before Bobby's mind of the reason for this unexpected phone call. There had only been two times when Dean had called before; once when a hunt went bad and Dean was once again in the face of death, and the other when he announced the passing of his father.

"_You know that case you got me working on?"_

"Yea' the one in Arizona right?"

"_Yeah that one… well, uh."_

Bobby could hear breakage of Dean's voice and his chest caved. The strong and fearless Dean Winchester was holding back tears and trying not to cry.

"What is it boy?" He asked, less forceful and more gentle, trying to coax the barely legal adult to reveal what he knew.

"_I saw him Bobby… I saw…."_

Confusion washed over him for a brief moment before the haunting reality dawned on him.

"Sam?"

The mere mention of his name and Bobby could hear the choked sobs that Dean tried to conceal.

"_I hope not Bobby. God I hope not."_

Bobby's eye brows flurried as his forehead creased in a strict confusion and determination.

"Dean what happened? Tell me."

"_He killed those people Bobby! He killed them."_

"Come on Dean. You don't seriously believe that do you?"

"_You didn't see it Bobby. It was Sam. Well I think it was. I think he was possessed. I hope he was possessed."_

"Dean, are you completely sure it was Sam?"

"_He's not exactly the ten year old kid he was six years ago Bobby, but as much as I don't want to admit it, it was him."_

Bobby gripped his mouth with his free hand, trying to process the information that had been given to him. Yeah sure, there was also the slight possibility that Sam was still alive, but now that new evidence had come forward it all seemed so surreal and impossible. But the raw emotion he could practically feel coming from Dean disintegrated all the doubts circulating his mind.

"_What do I do Bobby?"_ Dean practically begged. The vulnerability of his voice drew Bobby back to the fourteen year old, begging drastically for his little brother.

"We're gunna find Sam, Dean. Then we're gunna hunt down the son of the bitches."

"_How?"_

"First, we need to find ourselves a demon."

_-x-_

_Six months had passed since Sammy had disappeared. Six months of grief. Six months of pain. Six months of torture._

_The now fifteen year old Dean Winchester covered the remaining gravel and asphalt over the metallic box that was now buried under the ground. He stood back up, coming face to face with a petite tall figure, with flowing brown hair, her eyes burning blood red._

"_Dean Winchester?"_

"_How did you know my name?" Dean glared back, keeping his composure stern and unreadable._

"_I hear things." The cross-road demon snickered, circling the young teenager. "Does your father know you're here?" she asked in a taunting and accusing manner, finger pointed straight out at the teenager._

"_I want my brother back." Dean demanded, avoiding her question as his stomach grew heavy and heart began beating faster and faster._

"_Sorry, no can do." The demon shrugged innocently._

"_What do you mean you can't?!" Dean asked bewildered, arms thrown outstretched as anger radiated through him._

"_I just can't."_

"_Take me instead! You don't even have to wait the whole ten years with me! You can take me right now! I won't fight! I won't struggle! Just bring him back!"_

"_I'm sorry. But your special little Sammy has a very beneficial fate for us."_

"_Where is he you bitch!' he yelled, swinging his iron rod that was hidden up his sleeve towards the demon, only to have her disappear into thin air before the iron rod even made contact._

_-x-_

"Dean Winchester. Again?"

"Yes. Hello Arina."

"I've told you how many times now? I can't bring him back Dean."

"I know that now." He smirked. "You're the one I want this time."

Blood red eyes flashed as the demon finally contemplated her surroundings, realising she was standing directly in the middle of a large devils trap.

"Son of a-" she cursed, her eyes burning in anger.

"Oh we are going to have some fun." Dean smiled.

-x-

"Tell me where he is you bitch!" Dean yelled, throwing a full bucket of holy water to the bound demon, watching in satisfaction as steam rose from her body as her scream pulsated through the abandoned warehouse.

"I don't know!" she screamed as burning sensation became unbearable, her flesh sizzling. "I swear I don't know!"

"Well that's just not good enough!" Dean growled, empting the contents of the container directly into her mouth, the salt falling down her throat, gagging the scream that tried to escape her.

"Which one of you bastards are possessing Sam!?"

Arina spat the remaining salt crystals from her mouth, steam still rising without faltering. Her bound hands gripping onto the solid chair, trying to ease the fire circulating her body caused by the salt and holy water torture that was mercilessly placed on her.  
A daunting smile was plastered on her face as her red eyes burned into Dean's emeralds, taunting him with her gaze.

"You still don't get it do you?" she laughed hysterically. "Sam's not being possessed."

**A/N- Thankyou for the reviews! Make sure you keep them coming!**

**-Lexii xo**


	4. Poisoned

**Chapter Four: Poisoned**

_The putrid smell of burning and decaying flesh burnt into the young's boy nose, causing him to gag and jerk his body into consciousness as his body begged for the stench to be removed from his presence. Immediately he noted the amount of pain pulsing through his entire body at intolerable rates. _

_His head throbbed as if his brain had swelled and doubled its size, with his skull struggling to contain it; much like a suitcase practically ready to burst at its seams from being filled with too many items.  
Eyes still closed he rose his hand to the back of his head, noting the bloody wound that mattered the back of it. His rib cage felt heavy and stiff, while his lungs burned for any source of oxygen they could obtained; not nearly as much as they used to be able too. _

_Sam slowly opened his eyes, partly scared of what he may see. Fiery reminiscences dimly lit the small metal cell, presenting scratches and blood carved into the metal walls, from who Sam assumed to be the previous owners. _

_He sat up slowly, a wave of dizziness and nausea washed over him, causing bile to rise up his throat, but he forced it back down. He swung his legs off the large metal plate, considered to be a bed and gripped the edges. His too-long bangs clouded his eyes as his chin rested on his chest, trying to fight his way through his fogged mind, searching through his memories that seemed to be hiding themselves to what the hell had happened to him. _

_He looked down at his bloody hands, three of his fingernails had been ripped mercilessly from their sockets and he cursed at himself for not being able to remember how on earth that had even happened. _

_Then all the memories hit him in an instant._

_The heat._

_The panic._

_Hiding._

_The demon._

_The salt._

_Dean._

_Oh god Dean. _

_His bloodied body and swollen face. _

_The decapitated finger._

_His immobile body._

_This time he allowed the bile to escape his mouth. Once the vomiting had subsided he laid back down, his body trembling as he pulled his knees to his chest, ignoring the searing pain coming from his chest as he gripped his knees closer. Tears fell one by one, heavier and heavier, faster and faster down his face, mixing with the dirt and blood that cased his face._

_The screams and begging of tortured souls circulated the room, tormenting him before they drifted into his ear, repeating themselves over and over again, surrounding him; a torture of his own. _

_But none of these screams were as loud as the scream belonging to Dean, echoing endlessly in his mind._

_-x-_

"You're lying!" Dean screamed, throwing yet another charitable amount of holy water onto the bound demon in front of him.

She hissed in pain as her skin sizzled and smoked, but the smile was not removed from her face, taking pleasure in suffering of her torturer.

Once emptied, he turned and threw the flask onto the ground before dragging his rough hands harshly through his hair as his mind tried to make sense of what had escaped the demon's mouth.

It couldn't be true. Not his Sammy. How could he even have these demonic powers? He was human for Christ's sake! The same flesh and blood that Dean was! Sammy never threw the bastards that used to bully him and give him grief at school with just a single flick of his wrist. So why the hell did he kill those two innocent people- Oh god was there more than two?

The possible reality dawned over Dean and caused his stomach to flip. His eyes widened and he was grateful the demon could not see the paleness of his skin and vulnerability that he knew was present in his features as the blood rushed out of his face in an instant, leaving him feeling cold and physically sick.

"What is it Dean? Can't accept the fact that your precious Sammy is a _monster_?" Arina tauntingly spat, soaking in the tension and distress radiating off the young man.

"Shuttup." Dean angrily whispered, his mind trying to process every single memory and fact he knew about his brother's disappearance in a rush, his hands clenched tightly into bound fists, his whole body trembling as he relived all the pain he had been feeling for six long years all at once.

"What are you thinking about Dean? Hmmm? Considering the ways you're going to kill him? That's what you do right Dean? Kill monsters?"

Dean span around, his face bright red in anger. His body shook more vigorously as his chest inflated and decreased violently from the harshness of his angered breathing.  
He pulled the blade that his father had given him days before his death from inside his jacket and in one swift motion sliced the thin skin on the throat of the demon's vessel. The wound lit up in a harsh bright light, before slowly fading away as the body now went limp, the tightly bound ropes restricting the body from falling lifelessly off the wooden chair.

Dean closed his eyes as he tried to calm the unnerving rage radiating through his body. His head pounded as the demon's words echoed in his mind, the blade in his hand felt hot to the touch as it shook in unison with his trembling body.

"Damn it boy!" a gruff familiar voice spat out of nowhere causing the young hunter to jump. Dean's body tensed and froze, before he spun around removing the immobile corpse from his view and held the long blood covered blade infront of him in a threatening stance.

"Put that bloody knife down ya idjit." Bobby grumbled, walking into the moonlit area so Dean could see him better.

"Bobby?" Dean asked, surprise present in his voice.

"Who else would it be ya idjit?" Bobby questioned sarcastically as Dean wiped the crimson that coated the blade on an old rag before replacing the blade back into his jacket.

"Thought we decided you weren't coming." Dean mumbled, planting his eyes firmly to the dirtied concrete floor of the abandoned warehouse, forcing his emotions deep down into the pit of his stomach. Dean knew with just a simple glance into his eyes Bobby would be able to see right into his soul, reading Dean like an open book, processing his emotions, determining the vulnerability and pain that Dean couldn't expel from his body. And one thing that Dean wasn't was weak. That is at least in the eyes of another, human or monster.

"No _you_ decided I wasn't coming." Bobby shot back.

"This is something_I_have to do Bobby! _I_need to be the one to bring Sammy back." Dean yelled back in both grief and anger whilst tears began welling up in his eyes as his emotions took over control. He breathed deeply and lowered his voice, regaining momentarily control of his emotions. "Just go home Bobby. I can do this myself."

Bobby walked over to Dean, and gently placed his hand on Dean's right shoulder, forcing Dean to meet his gaze as he tried to make himself as clear as possible.

"Listen here boy. I know you feel a hell 'lotta guilt over what happened that night, but you gotta get it through ya head it wasn't your fault! Damn it boy you were a freakin' kid! No one expected you to throw yourself in the line of fire and take on a bloody demon that was twice your size and ten times your strength.  
From the moment me and John found you I've been a part of this whether you like it or not, even if I wasn't there with John I'd still make myself a part of it!  
Family doesn't end at blood and you should know that; hell you two boys are like sons to me, and I sure as hell ain't letting you fight off whatever the hell is responsible for this mess by your god damn self! Ya understand?"

Dean numbly nodded, allowing bits and pieces of what Bobby had said sink into him. His eyes were completely unfocused on the older man who patted his shoulder before moving away.

"Okay, now what did ya manage to get out of this demon?" Bobby asked, nudging his head towards the lifeless corpse still hunched over in the chair.

"Demon's lie don't they Bobby?" Dean asked suddenly, a hint of hope in his voice, golden flecks now shone brightly in his irises.

"Oh yeah all the time Dean… 'cept when they know something that will torment and plague someone more than a slow painful torture. They'll rub it in to test how far it takes to finally make them crack. Twisted things demons are." Bobby noted how the golden flecks that were dancing around vibrantly suddenly extinguish, and the realisation finally hit him. "Why? Did it say something to ya boy?"

Dean simply nodded, his jaw suddenly felt like it was cased in dried cement, heavy and almost impossible to move.

"What did it say?" Bobby asked, as he walked back over to Dean. "Well come on boy!"

"It, uh, said Sammy wasn't possessed Bobby."

"Impossible." Bobby said flatly.

"You sure?"

"Well I've never read or come across humans suddenly obtaining demonic powers without being possessed or in very rare cases have a strong ability in telekinesis. But that video you sent me, no way any human could have that amount of power to rip limbs apart; throwing a body against a wall or getting a weapon and plunging it into the victim, yeah sure. But that? I highly doubt it boy."

"So you're not a hundred per cent sure?"

"When it comes to supernatural, you never can be."

-x-

_Sam couldn't tell how long he had been in this cell now._

_Hours?_

_Days?_

_Weeks?_

_There was no sun to tell the time, just a fiery implosion that radiated the small cell endlessly. _

_His stomach screamed in desperation for some sort of nourishment; water, food; anything to satisfy its needs. But the simple thought of food caused his stomach to double over and flip, and Sam knew without a doubt that if there were any contents left in his stomach, they would immediately join the other pile of stale vomit that rested in the corner of the cell. Thankfully the foul stench that usually accompanied could not be noticed over the nauseating smell of decaying and burning flesh._

_Focusing solely on the wall infront of him, Sam counted the amount of scratches that embodied the metal walls, trying to distract himself by the haunting images of his dying brother. The slow and torturous creaking of the metal door opening immediately made the hair on his neck rise and he curled his body smaller into a ball, ignoring the amount of pain and begging of his chest to move out of this merciless position._

"_Samuel Winchester. I've been waiting a long time to see you again."_

_Pure dread melted through his body. Before he wished for some kind of social contact, but now that it had arrived he wished for nothing more than to get rid of it._

"_I doubt you even remember me. You were only; how old again? Six months I believe?"_

_Six months._

_He was six months when…._

_Sam unravelled himself as he turned around, greeted by a man with fierce yellow eyes._

"_Y-You." He whispered, his mind flashing back to the night he lost his mother._

_Silence._

_Then light._

_He cried. _

_He remembered crying._

_Two yellow eyes radiated in the darkness, lighting the stranger's evil smirk._

_His mother's voice…._

_Her scream._

_The fire._

"_Oh so you do remember me?" Yellow Eyes smirked, taking a step closer to the boy, causing Sam to jump slightly before immediately forcing himself to crawl backwards until his back was firmly pressed against the cold metal wall as he tried to distance himself further away from him as possible._

"_What happened to Dean?" He asked as threateningly as a frightened ten year old boy could muster._

"_Aren't you slightly curious to why you are here?"_

_Sam shook his head violently from side to side, proving his determination to finding out what had happened to Dean. The never ending debacle of not knowing and forcing his mind trying to confirm or deny the worst, was as torturous as watching Dean struggle in the hands of the demon._

"_I'll tell you in good time boy, after you asked why you're here."_

"_Fine. Why am I here." Sam muttered forcefully as his eyes burned in hatred into the demon._

"_I thought you'd never ask." Yellow Eyes smirked evilly. "It's simple really Sam. You're special."_

_Sam scrunched up his nose in confusion. "What do you mean 'special'?" he asked blankly._

"_Been having dreams Sammy?"_

"_Don't you dare call me that! Only one person is allowed to call me and that's Dean! Do you hear me!" the ten year old burst out in anger, his outstretched fists shaking violently._

"_Okay!" the demon calmly said, his hands outstretched as a sign of surrender, though an amused smile was printed on his face. "I said have you been having dreams?"_

"_It's none of your business." Sam spitefully spat. _

_Azazel lowered his hands, a disapproving yet calm expression was plastered on his face. "I said…" he rose one hand, his palm open, and slowly closed it into a fist. "Have…."_

_Sam felt his chest erupt in flames. _

"_You…."_

_An invisible weight slowly crushed the small child and he felt his ribs once again becoming weaker by the second. _

"_Had…."_

_Sam let out another pain inflicted scream as he felt another rib break mercilessly. _

"_Yes!" the ten year old gasped through the excruciating pain._

"_What was that?" Azazel grinned, closing his fist even tighter._

"_I've been having dreams!" Sam screamed as another crack echoed throughout the small cell._

_Yellow Eyes released his fist and the young child grimaced in unspeakable pain, but with a click of Azazel's fingers the pain disintegrated as quickly as it begun. _

"_Now that wasn't so hard now was it?" He mocked, smirking at the erratic breathing of the ten year old as he tried to normalise his heart rate._

"_What do you want with me?!" Sam demanded._

"_These dreams you've been having, they've been coming true haven't they? You know, you have a dream then you wake up a few days later and that dream is suddenly on every news channel or newspaper?"_

_Sam adverted his gaze and bit the inside of his cheek. How on earth did he know that? He hasn't told a single soul, not even Dean._

"_It's okay Sam. You're the special one. Do you want to know why?"_

_Sam only nodded numbly in response._

"_Because you're the first one Sam. The very first."_

"_There's more…like me?"_

"_Oh yes! Every year for ten years, I find some six month old that I know will benefit my gifts greatly."_

"_So what do you want with me?"_

"_Oh it's simple Sam. You're going to help me find them. No matter who gets in the way."_

_-x-_

"So get this."

"What is it Bobby?" Dean asked, walking over to where Bobby was occupying the laptop on the small dining table in yet other hotel room.

"I found eleven other murders that seem connected to this one, dating back to six years."

"Six years?!"

"That's exactly what I thought. Now says here that every year a family or foster home is attacked, and basically whoever is there, or seemed to interrupt the thing responsible ended up dead, the first was a young couple followed by an elderly one, then another young couple, then a foster family, mother father and foster kid was all killed then last year was a father and son. They started off fairly simple; stabbings, thrown down the stairs etcetera etcetera, but then they got bloodier and bloodier, limbs ripped limb from limb, decapitation, head turned all the way around. Pretty nasty stuff."

"Okay Bobby I get it. But how do you know they are all connected? There's different age group of the victims, different economy status, different methods of death?"

"At first I wasn't sure either, until I found out they all had ten year old children vanish without a trace."

"But Bobby, the victims from last week didn't have kids?"

"Damn it boy! Did you not here what was said during that recording!" noting Dean's lack of response Bobby sighed before reciting what was on the tape. "_Elizabeth took her. I don't know where she is?_ Is this ringing a bell?!"

"They had a kid?" Dean asked, uncertainty present in his voice.

"Wha—Yes they had a kid ya idjit!" Bobby exclaimed.

"The Sherriff did say they used to you to some prestige catholic highschool in New York?"

"Dean we got to find that kid, before it's too late."

-x-

The Impala pulled up infront of the traditional country house that was ironically found fifteen minutes from both the homes of Elizabeth Summer and Alexander Grant.

Without hesitation Dean rushed out of the driver's side and straight to the trunk of the Impala. Revealing the secret location of the weapon he grabbed everything he's need to take down a demon, hopefully without damaging the demon's vessel; Sam.

Loading his shot gun with rounds of rock salt Dean barged past Bobby who was still collecting the necessary weapons.

"Dean! Wait! Damn it!" He cursed, watching the young hunter barge into the house.

-x-

Dean silently barged through the front door, immediately taken back by the amount of blood that cased the walls. Rising the shot gun to his eye level he followed the drag marks through the open entrance of what Dean determined to be the longue room.

The bodies of an elderly couple lay bloodied and lifeless in the middle of the room. A tangle of loose limbs piled on top of the clothed torsos, blood splatter tainted the walls and furniture red, so fresh it still dribbled downwards.

A young blonde haired girl was pressed against the hard case bookshelf. Blood stained her face and clothing and her fearful ice blue eyes met Dean's emeralds. Dean let out a small reassuring smile as he moved closer to the figure that kneeled before the young girl, his back turned away from Dean.

"Get the hell away from her you bastard!" Dean screamed, allowing two shots to go off, hitting the figure perfectly in the upper back. But there was no screams of pain given, no steam or sizzling of the skin. Instead the figure flicked his hand simply and Dean flew raggedly across the room, his shot gun flying in the opposing direction as his body was thrust against the blood stained wall.

"Ugh." Dean hissed as his head hit the wall harshly sending an immediate surge of pain shot down his spine.

"Dean?!" Bobby called out worryingly as he ran to the front door, only to have to slam in his face with yet just another simple flick of the wrist.

The figure rose and turned, walking slowly over to the restrained hunter, his face expressionless.

He analysed every feature and compared them to what the ten year old version had possessed. Every single detail. The slight stubble growing on his face, the ridged and strong shape of his jaw, the slight squint in his eyes, the baby fat that had turned itself into raw muscle, which made Dean slightly envious.

Dean knew he should have been expecting it, for it to be Sammy, but seeing him in the flesh, right infront of him after all these years just threw out any expectation or reality of what he would feel or do when they were finally reunited like he had dreamed off countless nights.

But there was no brotherly hug. No simple 'Hi' or 'Hey bro, how ya going? Mind telling me where ya been for the past six years'. No. Instead Dean was halfway up a wall, restricted by an invisible force, his mouth agape, staring in amazement of the similar features that had changed and matured over time, his eyes wide in bewilderment as they welled up in tears. He wanted so bad to give Sam the apology he had been repeating in his mind every second of every day. He wanted so bad to ask where the hell he's been for the past six years. He wanted so bad to confirm that it wasn't Sam who killed all those people. He wanted so bad to tell Sam how much he missed him.

But instead of any of these the first thing he muttered was; "Holy shit you got tall Sammy."

As soon the words escaped his mouth, Sam froze. His face darkened and his eyes became hollow and empty. There was no recognition or happiness present on his face, just pure anger. Sam outstretched his fist and squeezed tighter.

Dean felt his throat closing up. He clawed against the wall and kicked his legs in desperation as he gasped for air. He opened his mouth, begging the air to somehow fight its way through the invisible force closing it shut and allow his lungs the air they so desperately needed. But no matter how desperately he silently begged not a single piece of oxygen was allowed past the invisible blockage. Black spots invaded his vision as his mind became clouded, and the image of his brother standing before him started to slowly fade away.

"Only one person is allowed to call me that." Sam grunted, anger pulsing through him, satisfaction present on his face as he watched the 'stranger' before him struggle for air. "And he's dead."

**A/N- Hope you enjoyed! Please tell me what you thought!  
Liking the flashbacks?  
Dean/Bobby moments?  
Any ideas you have for future chapters would be cherished!  
Reviews are always wanted and loved  
Big thankyou to those who reviewed!  
Promise there will be brotherly angst and the reason why Sam has demonic powers real soon!**

**-Lexii xo**


	5. Decisions, Decisions

**Chapter Five- Decisions, Decisions.**

Dean's lungs felt like they were burning inside out. The clawed positions of his hands against the white plaster weakened as numbness started to take over his body. Through the thick black dots invading his vision he could see the distorted image of the brother he has spent so many years looking for before him, slowly killing him.

The determination and satisfaction that was plastered on his little brother's face made it perfectly clear that he was not backing down, that he was going to kill his own flesh and blood.

This was nothing like how Dean thought their reunion would be.

Tears fell freely from his eyes, from what Dean made himself to believe was from the lack of oxygen that was spiralling around his body rather than the realisation of just how close to death he was. Dean always thought that some monster that killed the clueless souls he protected would be the culprit of his death.

Never in a thousand years would he think that one of those monsters turned out to be his little brother.

Quite frankly Dean wasn't sure of what he was more scared of; the fact that he was on the verge of death, or the fact that it was the brother who Dean had had fought so desperately to get back over so many years, was slowly and painfully killing him without even touching him.

Desperation fought over controls of his emotions as his fear of death became present. Through the jagged and constricted breathing and tightness weighing on his throat he let out a pleading cry to his brother before him. "P-please Sammy."

He hated how weak his voice sounded. He hated how he was like a puppet to this stupid invisible force keeping his body up in mid-air. He hated how pathetic and vulnerable he was making himself out to be. He was always meant to be the hero, the fearless hunter that caused the supernatural to quiver in their spot. Not this _w_e_akling_ begging for dear life.

The weight was lifted from his throat and Dean greedily heaved in large breaths of oxygen into his lungs, one after another, soothing the fire that was burning in his chest and removing the fog that clouded his mind.

"Why do you keep calling me that?!" Sam demanded angrily, his fists now clenched alongside his waist, his shoulders straight and tensed back.

"You don't remember me do you?" Dean asked quietly, his chest still rising and lowering rapidly as he kept his head tilted slightly to the side, searching, studying, hoping for any reactions of recognition or recollection on his younger brother's face.

Sam's face darkened and his eyebrows arched as he tried to sort through his blackened memories full of pain, hurt and torture.

"It's me Sammy."

Sam's face soften slightly as his hazels connected with Dean's, confusion and distrust noticeable plastered on them.

In a hesitant hushed tuned Dean whispered "It's me Sam. It's Dean."

Sam's hazels disintegrated into pure blackness, overtaking the whole eyeball. Dean could barely stop the gasp from escaping his mouth as he felt his right hand explode in a current of excruciating pain. He bit his lip down hard, drawing blood as he fought back the scream from escaping his mouth as the sound of the bone breaking echoed into his ear repeatedly.

"You're not Dean." Sam calmly said, with a hint of angered annoyance as he approached his confined brother before him, leaning forward until his lips were next to his ear. The smell of blood, smoke and another repulsive smell Dean could decipher drifted from Sam to him, causing him to almost gag.

"Dean's dead. And now you will be too." Sam tauntingly whispered in Dean's ear, followed by a sinister laugh that sent shivers raging down on his spine.

Sam stepped backwards from Dean, his eyes still as black as the night sky. Rising both his hands directly infront of him, shoulder length apart, he allowed a menacing smile of sadistic pleasure, distrust and hatred all mixed in one become present on his lips, burning the image into Dean's soul.

Sam moved his clawed hands closer together, moving no more than a mere few centimetres before Dean's body jerked suddenly forward in pain, constricted by the invisible force tethering it to the wall. Through clenched teeth Dean attempted to mute the scream of pain from escaping his lips, but even then the loud grunt of pain spread easily around the room, echoing throughout the entire house.

Slower and slower Sam's hands became closer together. As his hands moved closer together an invisible force pressed against both sides of Dean's temples, as an unimaginable pain surged through his body. Dean could feel the pressure in his skull rising, the pain so daunting and heavy it felt as if his head was trapped in between a large metal clamp, squeezing tighter and tighter after each turn.

Blood flowed from both his ears as the attempt to fight off the invisible weight failed. Dean's restricted grunts of pain had now disintegrated into never ending ear piercing screams as the pain became close to unbearable.

Warm crimson flowed from the corner of his eye and trailed alongside his nose, the bitter metallic taste dissolving into his tongue. His head pounded and his body convulsed, the black spots had now returned, completely overtaking his vision and leaving him in pure darkness. The weight on either side of his head became heavier and heavier and he fought himself through the pain to stay conscious, to not allow himself to fall into the unknown blackness that grabbed at him, trying to pull him further and further down into what Dean knew would be death.

-x-

His body fell limply into a heap on the floor, the cold hardwood soothing his burning body. The black dots slowly faded, replacing themselves with bright, disoriented images through the cracked slits.

"_Dean…."_

The voice seemed so close yet so far. Dean couldn't fully register who or _what _it had come from, but it somehow gave Dean the extra energy to fight to open his eyelids fully, the light causing him to groan in pain as he squeezed them back shut as fast as he had opened them.

"Dean." The voice repeated, much more clearer now. The tone was gruff, but obvious sympathy was also present and that narrowed it down to one person; Bobby.

"Bobby?" Dean groaned, trying to force his eyes open.

"Dean? Ya alright?"

"Killer headache." Dean smiled meekly as he attempted to sit up.

"'Ere boy. Easy now." Bobby said, kneeling down and helping Dean to sit upwards, frowning slightly as he saw the blood coating the young hunter's face.

"What…uh… happened...Sammy?!...Where's Sammy?!" Dean hysterically said, jerking his body forward much to fast before grasping his temples and groaning as pain shot mercilessly through his head.

"Relax boy!" Bobby cursed, steadying Dean's body against the wall. "Now for God's sake don't move!" he instructed in frustration as he stood back up.

Once the surge of pain had finally subsided, Dean allowed himself to process his surrounding environment. From where he was sitting he could see the front door; or what _used_ to be the front door spread around where the door should actually be. Pieces and splinters of wood had been flung in all directions, with the final remains of the door hanging loosely from its hinges.

In a feasible attempt of not triggering another merciless surge of pain he moved his head slowly to the opposite side, his breath getting caught in his throat as he saw the limp body of his brother lying immobile on the blood soaked carpet. He swore he felt his heart stop as the the blood escaped from his face, making it become the deathly pale.

"Is he…" he whispered trying to stop his voice from breaking as he became overwhelmed with emotions.

"What?" Bobby questioned glancing at the young hunter before him, then to the immobile teenager. "Oh no ya idjit! He's not dead!"

His mind failed to process the words coming from the older hunter as he watched this little brother's body lying motionless on the floor.

"Dean!" Bobby loudly yelled, causing Dean to jump as he redirected his attention to the older hunter. "He's not dead I'm tellin' ya! Tranquiliser. Yep. Ya heard me; tranquiliser. Gave him enough to knock out a horse."

Dean let out a breath of air he was unaware he had been holding in. He rested the back of his head against the wall as relief washed over him as the sunken feeling in his chest reinflated. "Thank god." He muttered in a harsh whisper.

"Where's the girl?" Dean questioned.

"She's upstairs. She agreed to wait before until we've left before calling the police or anything like that. She's gunna say she heard someone break into the house before hiding in the closet or under her bed or something."

Dean nodded slightly, indicating his understanding to the extent he was able too without causing a great deal of pain in his throbbing head. "What are we gunna do now Bobby?" he questioned, nudging towards the unconscious figure next to him. "He's not a demon. I used salt rocks that would only explode on contact with the skin and they didn't work on him at all. But he's not human either. His eyes went black Bobby. Pure black. And he almost killed me…twice without even touching me. My own brother almost killed me. He didn't know who I was and I-I tried telling him that I was me, that I was Dean, but instead he told me he was going to kill me and he _laughed_ Bobby. He laughed as if he knew he would actually enjoy it. Enjoy killing me. He has all the powers of a demon, but he's not. I don't know what he his…" Dean trailed off from his rambling, adverting his gaze from the older man as a few tears trailed down his cheeks.

Bobby harshly stroked his mouth as he considered his options before him. Whoever or w_hatever_ this was before him wasn't the Samuel Winchester he had grown to love as a son. He knew that if this was just some other case and the boy before him was just a stranger he would kill him without a moment's hesitation. And with the fear radiating in Dean's eyes Bobby knew the realisation was mutual. But this wasn't just _some_ boy. This was the kid that used to put Bobby to shame about not knowing how to turn a stupid computer on. This was the kid both he and Dean had been searching endlessly for over six years. This was the kid that had six years of his life stolen away from him and made to do god-knows-what and brainwashed into this murderous creature before them. This wasn't the Samuel Winchester he knew, but there was an impossible chance that that Samuel Winchester was still there, somewhere, waiting to come back.

"Come on boy." Bobby grunted as he bent down and grasped Dean around his too-thin waist and hoisted him upwards. Dean flung his arm around the older man's shoulder and allowed himself to be lifted off the floor, his vision becoming momentarily blurred as his head throbbed in pain. Dean felt himself being dragged and tried his best to stop his feet from dragging behind him. "We're gunna take Sam home."

-x-

"_I'll never do what you want me to do." Sam spat, trying as hard as he could to hide the pain that was surging throughout his entire body. The metal hooks that dug into his flesh kept his body from touching the ground, his body carved with bloodied wounds from a thousand different weapons._

_It was a never ending cycle. From the moment Sam opened his eyes it was as if they knew. He would be dragged kicking and screaming through the hallway of barred cells which stored thousands of tortured, evil and innocent beings cowering in the shadows of them. An invisible force would lift him in mid-air and hooks would dig into his flesh, sometimes quickly, other times slow and torturously. Thousands of weapons would attack his body, slicing, piercing and stabbing his body over and over again, then when they finally got bored of that they would start ripping limbs from his body, until he would finally pass out from the excruciating pain, only to begin once again the moment his eyes opened, his body perfectly intact as if it was a dream. _

_A never ending nightmare._

_Azazel smiled sinisterly as he pulled out something he never had before from his jacket pocket and began tracing the outline of the serrated silver blade with his fingernail._

_Sam felt his stomach drop as he saw what the yellow eyed demon was holding. "Where did you get that." He demanded through clenched teeth, anger radiating off him._

"_From your beloved Dean." Azazel smirked._

"_What have you done to Dean!" Sam demanded, no longer caring about the raw pain shooting through him._

"_No boy. The question is what have __**you**__ done to Dean?"_

"_What do you mean!" _

"_Well you killed him."_

"_I did not! I loved him! It was one of these demon bastards! I would never hurt him! Dean can't be dead! I don't believe a single thing that comes out of your mouth!"_

"_Oh really? Well Dean says different…"_

_Out from the fiery shadows came a fourteen year old Dean. Rope burns were bright red against his skin, his face swollen and demented, his skin painted in purple and blue bruises, blood soaked through his grey shirt and blood dripped constantly from the stump of the decapitated finger that was loosely hanging in an unnatural position._

_Sam fought back the bile that had risen in his throat. He knew it had to be some kind of trick, a sick, sick trick. _

"_Dean…?" he questioned, scared of the answer he would receive._

"_Why'd ya do this to me Sammy? Why'd ya kill me?"_

_Tears fell from the ten year old's eyes "I didn't-" he blurted out through sobs._

_Dean limped closer. "Yes you did Sammy. This is your entire fault. If you would have just gone with the demon I would still be alive now."_

"_No…I….I…" Sam shook his head vigorously from side to side. "I didn't…."_

"_Yes you did Sammy. It's your fault I'm dead."_

_Sam gasped for breaths in between his sobs, his tears mixing with the blood and ash that coated his face. Dean stepped forward and with his finger lifted Sam's chin upwards so he was now looking directly into his eyes. _

"_But it's okay Sammy. I may be dead… but Dad isn't."_

"_Not for long." Azazel interrupted. "If you don't agree to do as I have asked, your father will be on the next flight straight to hell."_

_Sam looked at the yellow eyed demon, his eyes wide in fear, his chest convulsed as it tried to regulate itself through the hysterical sobs._

"_Sammy. Don't let Dad die. You don't want to kill him too, do you?"_

_Sam once again shook his head vigorously from side to side._

"_Then just say yes." Dean stared intently into Sam's hazels._

"_Tick. Tock." Azazel taunted._

_Sam's mind ran like crazy. He was only ten years old; he shouldn't have to be deciding who will live and who will die._

"_Sammy…"_

"_Tick. Tock."_

"_Do you want to kill Dad like you killed me?"_

"_Tick. Tock."_

"_Sam!"_

"_Tick…"_

"_Okay! Fine you win! I'll do it! Just please don't kill my dad! He's the only thing I have left…."_

"_Good choice Sammy." Dean smiled before patting Sam's shoulder and turning his back from Sam and walking away._

"_Piece of pie." Dean whispered to Azazel as his emeralds transformed into black._

_-x-_

"Just leave me for a minute." Dean whispered.

Nothing else had to be said as Bobby gave a short nod and disappeared out of the panic room.

Dean collapsed on the end of the 'bed', exhaustion and emotional pain overwhelming him as he watched his younger brother before him.

Dean adverted his gaze and roughly ran both his casted and free hands through his hair, the pulsing headache had not ceased even after the almost days trip worth of driving.

Allowing himself to regain his composer, he walked over to the plastic bag full of new clothes they had collected for Sam to remove the bloodied ones that he was still dressed in. Grabbing a clean, white T-shirt from the bag Dean walked back over to the unconscious figure and sat down, with great difficulty and determination of using a broken hand, Dean managed to lift Sam's arms through and out of the sleeves, before completely removing the shirt.

The sight of Sam's torso made Dean gasp in horror and his stomach flip as he fought the bile that had rose in his throat back down. Jagged scars covered his younger brothers skin from what Dean could decipher was at least from bullets, knives, burns and god-knows-what-else. The thoughts about just how Sam had received these scars could not keep the vomit down.

Covering his mouth with his uninjured he rushed out of the panic room and heaved the contents of his stomach into the white porcelain bowl in the nearest bathroom.

"Dean? You okay boy?" Bobby's worried voice questioned from the open bathroom door. Once he was sure there was nothing left in his stomach he flushed the toilet, and heaved himself up on shaky legs, leaning his weight on the nearby sink as he dragged his feet towards it.

"'M fine Bobby." Dean waved off, rinsing his mouth out from water from the tap. "Wasn't expecting all those battle scars that's all." He finished, wiping his damp mouth on the towel provided.

"Do you want me to dress him? I bet it's difficult to do that with that hand of yours."

"Nah Bobby.' Dean shook his head, forcing a smile. "This is something I have to do."

-x-


	6. Broken Wings

**Chapter Six- Broken Wings**

Dean sat opposite to the rusted bedframe and dirtied mattress that held the unconscious figure of his younger brother. He cradled his broken arm in his lap, trying to ignore the flashbacks of Sam standing before him, his face plastered with that sadistic smile as he watched Dean squirm under the wrath of his demonic powers.

The last thing Dean wanted was to face the fact that Sam tried to kill him, more than once. But the throbbing pain of his head, broken arm and bruises covering his body didn't make it exactly easy. Almost two days later and Dean could still feel the invisible force blocking his throat; crushing his head. He could still hear the brutal snap of his bones; the sinister laugh echoing endlessly in his mind; over and over again with no indication of it ever stopping.

He wanted so bad to just forget, to just not _feel_. The amount of emotions raging inside of him, trying to fight for the most attention continuously made his stomach lurch. But in all honestly Dean didn't know what to feel.  
Was he supposed to feel okay about allowing another murderous thing live?  
Was he supposed to feel guilty that he had actually wished that Bobby would somehow find a way inside and kill Sam before Sam killed him?  
Was he supposed to feel grateful for having Sam lying infront of him, despite knowing that he wasn't the brother he was six years ago?

Dean lent forward and pinched the bridge of his nose with his uninjured hand. He squeezed his eyes shut momentarily, savouring the distraction from the emotions spiralling though him from the sudden pain.

_It would be so much easier to just bloody run. Drop everything, run and never look back. _

Dean snorted at his thoughts, humoured by the preposterousness and irony behind it all. For six years he's been searching blindly, trying to find the truth behind that fateful night and to bring Sammy home. For six years he's been visualising the moment they would finally be reunited, memorising the dialogue and emotions that he says and feels. But now, after six long years, Sammy was right infront of him, and Dean had no fucking idea what to do.

In the millions of scenarios he had pictured on their reunion, never had he pictured Sammy throwing him around like a rag doll and killing him with powers that no human should possess. He never pictured Sam not remembering him, or lying unconscious in the middle of Bobby's 'panic' room.

But there was no chance in hell he was running. Fuck no. Sammy needed him now more than ever, and Dean made it his own personal mission to be there for his lost long brother, trying to resurface the memories for their life together before he was taken that had seemed to bury themselves deep into Sammy's mind.

And then of course hunt down the bastards that took his brother from him.

"Dean?"

Dean hissed at the pain caused by the tenderness of his neck as his head instinctively snapped forwards to the metal door that had slowly opened, revealing the older man before him.

"Hey Bobby." Dean sighed harshly, allowing more pain to exit his body.

"You've been down here for three hours now. You okay boy?"

_Three hours?_ Dean thought indistinctly, trying to retrace the hours that had seemed to pass in just a few minutes.

"Uh, yeah. Just thinking."

Bobby nodded, knowing that nothing else had to be said on that topic. "Well boy, if I'm right, the tranquiliser should be wearing off in an hour or two. But I don't want to risk him waking up when we're not ready and doing god-knows-what. So if you want to go I'll get him ready."

"What are you talking about 'getting him ready'?" Dean asked quizzically, his eyebrow cocked in warning.

Bobby sighed, hating himself for what he was about to say. "You know boy, we gotta restrain him."

"Hell no Bobby." Dean exclaimed, standing up and throwing the chair he had been sitting on flying against the wall before walking over to Bobby, bolts anger pulsing through his veins. "There is no way in hell you're tying him up like a god damn dog! Aren't all these devil traps meant to stop all this demon voodoo power bullshit?! Lord knows how long he's been tied up for while he was in that hell." His softened towards the end as his body shuddered as the images of the jagged scars covering Sam's wrists came into his mind.

"Dean." Bobby said as forcefully yet as sympathetically as he could. "Sam almost killed you before. More than once. We don't even know if these devil traps will work on him. Hell we don't even know how he got these god damn powers in the first place. What do ya think is gunna happen when he wakes up in this cell and we go in to see him? Do ya honestly think he's just going to sit there like a good little boy?! No! He's going to go bat shit crazy and won't give a second thought about killing you, powers or not!"

Dean winced at the harshness and reality of Bobby's words. He looked back at the unconscious teenager and the hunting murderous expression on Sam's face through the black dots that clouded his vision as he felt his lungs begging for air underneath the invisible force that held him down. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he knew it had to be done.

"Go ahead Bobby." Dean said in a hushed whisper. Instantly hating himself as the words escaped his mouth.

-x-

"_You had very simple instructions Sam. Get the kid and kill anyone that got in your way. Now, I see you managed to do the first thing correctly, so tell me why I had to get one of my men to do the rest of it?"_

"_I wasn't going to kill an innocent man." Sam glared spitefully at the yellow eyed demon before him. _

"_You mean like how you killed Dean?" Azazel sadistically smiled._

_Sam adverted his eyes to the blood stained floor, his face darkening as guilt and grief flushed over him in a wave. _

_Smirking at Sam's silence Azazel walked closer to Sam, merely centimetres away from Sam's face. Grasping the youngster's chin he roughly forced Sam's gaze to meet his, savouring the fear that was present in his almost lifeless eyes. _

"_Now lookie here Sammy boy." Hatred overwrote the fear in his eyes as the nickname Sam only allowed Dean to say was mentioned. "When I say something I mean it. When I say kill anyone who gets in the way, I mean kill anyone that gets in the bloody way!"_

"_Fuck you." Sam spat, bloodied saliva slowly trailing down the demon's face. With slow and enforced movements Azazel wiped the spit off his face with the tip of his thumb, his face expressionless, although his yellow eyes burned in fury. _

_Before Sam had any time to react an invisible force made contact to his right cheek, sending him flying to the floor in a heap. Leaning on his elbow, he pressed his cold hand against the burning flesh, savouring the contrasting of the heat and cold before spitting out a mouth full of blood, much more than what was flowing before._

"_Another outburst like that and I may have to get daddy dearest here." Azazel warned, smiling at the sudden silence from the child. _

"_Go ahead boys, you know what to do. Just make sure he remembers it this time." Sam's head shot upwards. fear ridden completely over it as the light in his eyes faded, realising the fate that he was about to endure. _

_Two demons stepped out of the shadows and smiled in glee. Their sinister expressions revealing all the torturous methods they were going to inflict on the barely eleven year old child, which was so close to being broken._

_They stepped forward, grabbing the frail arm of the child harshly. Sam winced in pain as he could already feel the bruises staring to form._

"_We're gunna have lots of fun."_

-x-

_Pain._

_That is the only thing Sam seemed to be surrounded by. If it was not him suffering under the hands of these black-eyed-monsters then it was the constant echoing of the tortured souls around him, or the pain that tore at his heart as he thought of his life before these bastards took him. _

_His wrists were bound above him, keeping his body levitated and off the ground. Pins and needles stabbed mercilessly in his now otherwise numb arms. His shoulders buckled in so much pain he was sure they would somehow fall off. He could feel the rope digging harshly into his thin wrists, compressing the blood from flowing to his hands, and was almost a hundred per-cent certain his usually pale skin was now a deep purple. The uncomfortable warmth that bled down his torso eased the heat radiating off his frail body, totally contradicting the excessive trembling that caused the chains above him to rattle. _

_He locked his jaw tightly, clenching his teeth so hard it began to hurt, but the pain wasn't strong enough to mask or distract him from the pain receptors that screamed and begged for the pain to stop. He felt the skin give way as the cold blade ripped open his flesh, causing more of the crimson to escape his body._

_They liked to test him. They liked to test how many weapons or methods of torture they could use before he would be begging for mercy. He'd grown use to stabbings, use to the slicing of his flesh, he could easily bite his tongue and fight through the pain._

_Dean taught him to fight, and fighting is what he was going to do._

_Demon number one slowly approached Sam, tauntingly toying with a thin metal rod, smiling callously as he watched Sam swallow hard. _

"_Here's a new one." The demon grinned, raising the metal rod over his shoulder and up into the air, before using all the force he could obtain and whipping the rod harshly against Sam's bare back. _

_The unexpected lash of pain came so suddenly Sam couldn't hold back the scream from escaping his throat. The scream fuelled both demons' smiles to spread further across their face, and once again the demon whipped down the metal rod, harder and faster than the last one over and over again._

_Tears blurred Sam's vision as the pain became so close to unbearable. He bit so profusely down on his lip to prevent the screams from escaping that the now familiar metallic taste washed around his mouth. He silently appreciated the crimson blood flowing from his wounds, savouring the soothing of the pain as it flowed over other open wounds, calming the burning pain radiating from them._

_As quickly as the lashing began it stopped, and Sam released the tension of his body that he had used to try and ease some of the pain, his body falling limp in the mid-air. _

_But when demon number two appeared his hopes that this torture session was over disintegrated. He too was holding a thin metal rod, but the tip of this one was glowing a bright red. _

_Sam shuddered as the realisation of just how the tip became bright red surfaced in his mind and tried to mentally prepare himself for the pain he was doing to endure from the steaming tip of the rod. _

_The smell of burning flesh drifted into Sam's nose as the rod was whipped mercilessly against his bare back. He arched his chest forward in pain as excruciating pain struck his body suddenly. He fought against his bonds, and jerked his body in all directions as he tried to manoeuvre his body away from the metal rod as the demon lashed it down against him, again and again, until finally the screams he had been trying so hard to hold back were finally released, blending with all the other screams of the tortured souls._

-x-

"Bobby I have to get back down there." Dean whined, as if he was a five year old child.

"Hell no boy. Sit your ass down and relax. You've been by his side ever since we got back. You haven't eaten, you haven't slept, in all honesty boy you look like crap. Just eat something will ya?"

Dean collapsed down on the worn couch, admitting a silent defeat. Bobby trailed into the opposing kitchen as Dean rubbed both this eyes with his forefinger and thumb, hoping to rid the fatigue that had suddenly washed over him.

"'Ere. Have a beer." Suggested Bobby, pulling a cold bottle from the fridge. "I'll whip ya up a burger or something."

"'M not hungry." Dean mumbled under his breath.

"Too bad boy. You're gunna eating something." Bobby said a-matter-of-factly as he offered Dean the cold beer. Dean looked at it, and then towards the bulge in the older man's jacket pocket, eyebrow cocked.

"Got any whiskey?" Rolling his eyes Bobby pulled out the flask in his chest pocket and handed it to Dean huffing slightly as he made his way back into the kitchen.

Taking a sip from the flask, Dean savoured the burning sensation it had as it ran down his throat, momentarily removing all the fatigue, pain, stress and worry that had bombarded him all at once. Sure he knew he could handle blood sucking, flesh eating monsters, but this? This he just wasn't sure.

A scream erupted from the basement that instantly made Dean's blood run cold. Without a moment of hesitation Dean dropped the flask allowing the liquid to soak out of it and absorbed into the worn-out carpet as he rushed down the basement staircase two steps at a time.

The staircase seemed to go on forever as Sam's screams continued to echo and repeat endlessly. Each scream making Dean's chest concave slightly more as desperation flushed over him in a rapid turmoil, growing more furious and anxious as he seemed to lose control of his body; his body trembling with anticipation and fear, his legs just wanting to collapse beneath him as his stomach lurched scream after scream.

He reached down to the metal door handle, pulling furiously at it, before kicking it in anger when it did not open.

Dean forced the hatch of the small barred peep-hole on the door open, immediately regretting it as the sight of his bound, now sixteen year old brother came into view.

Sam's body arched off the mattress, his body convulsing and writhing against his bonds. Grunts of pain echoed in the small room as buds of sweat cascaded down his face, soaking his dark bangs to his forehead. His limbs jerked in different directions, some not naturally meant to be obtained.

Another round of Sam's screams began and Dean knew he was far beyond the point of panic. "Hold on Sammy!" He screamed, digging his cast free in his pockets, trying to fish out the keys to the lock before him, cursing himself for wearing so much clothing with so many pockets without the full use of both hands.

Never before had he been so grateful to feel the rough serrated edge from anything other than a knife. Cursing loudly as the key thumbled in his shaking hands, he forced it into the key hole almost screaming in victory when the thick metal door finally opened.

Sam's screams were intensifying. The ropes keeping him confined dug into his flesh, causing the skin to become raw red. The metal frame of the bed shook in unison with Sam's potent movements, rocking left or right, back or forth.

Dean stood in the doorway, feeling as if his stomach was stuck in his throat. He clung desperately to the metal frame of the door, his knuckles turning white from the amount of force he was using. His throat seemed to have closed slightly as it noticeably became harder to breathe.

Sam's body once again jerked upwards in a quick, vigorous movement as he screamed one last excruciating scream before his body became limp and his screams became silent as his body collapsed back down onto the bed.

-x-

Sam had learnt to hate the darkness, to fear the darkness. Whenever darkness was present something bad was going to happen to him, something bad _always_ happened to him. So now that he was completely surrounded in darkness he was fighting hard as hell to get out of it.

He fought for his eyes to open, the heaviness that seemed to weigh them down overriding him slightly, but still he fought. The darkness started to fade, being overpowered by the light that entered through the slit of his eyes. He fought harder against the invisible weight weighing down his eyelids until they opened evermore slightly.

Emerald eyes stared back at him and for the first time in a long time he finally felt _safe_. He felt the smile spread on his face, a smile that was not fuelled by rage, sarcasm or murder. A smile that was genuine, a smile that he hadn't been able to smile for over six years.

"De'n." he murmured happily, still fighting to keep his eyes open, to keep staring at those emerald green eyes.

Dean didn't even bother holding back the tears. "Yeah Sammy it's me." he said softly, bringing his fist to his mouth choking back a sob.

"De'n." Sam groggily, the smile still plastered on his face.

"Yeah, it's me Sammy. It's Dean." Dean smiled, reaching out and moving away one of Sam's too-long bangs off his face.

Sam's eyes burst open at the touch, his brown eyes burning furiously and he lunged forward as far as his bonds would allow towards Dean, thriving against his bonds like a wild uncontrollable beast.

Dean scrambled off the bed, ignoring the searing pain from his broken arm as it hit the concrete ground. "What the hell Sam?! It's me! Dean!"

"Don't you dare." Sam warned as his body tensed; his face darkening as his eyes squinted in hatred. "Don't you dare say you're my brother. Dean's dead. He's been dead for a long time. I don't know who the hell you are, or what the hell you want. But I swear on my brother's grave, once I'm out of here I'm going to kill you. I'm going to rip your limbs from your body one by one. If you run I will find you. I will not rest until I know your heart has stopped beating."

Dean swore he had just been shot, stabbed, and burned a thousand times over as each word along with the look of pure hatred burned forever into his mind.

"What did they do to you?" Dean demanded. _What did they do to the Sammy I knew._

Sam let out a humourless snort. 'What didn't they do to me?'

Dean knew he should have been expecting an answer like that, he'd seen the scars for Christs' sake, but the words still caused his blood to run cold. Instinctively he clenched his fists together, breathing in rugged breaths to control and direct the uncontrollable rage out of the majority of his body and into his fists.

Sam glanced towards Dean, a sarcastic smile spread when he saw the discontentment plastered on Dean's face. If this so called 'Dean' was going to keep him trapped like a pathetic animal, Sam was going to make sure he was going to suffer as much as he was.

-x-

**Big thankyou to those who reviewed! Constructive criticism, urges for me to update and personal opinions really make my day and give me the right motivation and ideas to continue!**

**Keep reviewing and I'll keep writing!**

**-Lexii xo **


	7. Insanity vs Reality

**Chapter Seven- Insanity vs. Reality**

"Hell is not exactly the most wanted place to be." Sam sneered, watching in satisfaction as the colour washed out of the so-called 'Dean'. "The torture was brutal. From the moment you opened your eyes until the moment you passed out, all you could feel was pain. They used to rip my limbs away from my body, grind away the flesh from my bare bones, used me as their own personal punching bag. Then when you awake, your body would be perfectly intact. No scars, not wounds, no bruises, nothing. It was as if it never happened. As if it was just a never ending nightmare, only to be repeated over and over again from the moment you open your eyes. The only injury is the broken and battered soul that burns deep inside you."

The words rolled off his tongue in a spiteful and taunting tone, easily hiding the pain that was hidden deep in his chest, spiralling in emotional hurt and anguish behind his recount. Seeing the petrified look on the imposter's face as each word flicked off his tongue caused his lips to spread into the sinister smile that always seemed to take over, silently grateful for the pain Sam was able to inflict on him without even physically touching him or using his powers.

Dean felt his throat run dry, feeling as if sandpaper was roughly scouring away the extremities of his throat each time he attempted to swallow the miniscule amount of saliva as the horrific images of Sam suffering through this barbaric torture entered his mind, much reflecting the vicious and vile thoughts that his mind constantly created awake or asleep.

For six years he had never been able to escape it, the constant not knowing of what could be happening to Sam at that every moment. He always fought against the urge to finally fall asleep, knowing that there was no music, no people, no conversations or even no inanimate objects to stop these terrible thoughts from dwelling his mind like there was when he was awake. Sleep had now became the compulsory evil, and Dean only allowed it when he knew he could not stay awake no more. He could last without the need for sleep for days, and even when his eyelids are drooping shut, when his mind is fogged, when there was no energy remaining in his body to move a limb, he still fought against himself to not fall asleep, to not face the nightmares he knew he was going to endure like he did every night.

But hearing Sam confirm Dean's worst nightmares made his stomach lurch once more, the bile rising ever so slightly up his throat, threatening to bring up the minimal remaining contents of his stomach.

Knowing that for over six years, his little brother had been in the merciless hands of demons, torturing him in such agonistic and vicious ways that you should only see or hear about in horror movies made the anger and guilt strike Dean like a bullet all over again.

His mind screamed at him to just open his mouth, to just _say something_. Convince Sam he _was _Dean. That whatever had taken Sam had indoctrinated and programmed all this false information into his mind, brainwashing him, battering his body, his mind, his s_oul_. Dean wanted to yell his heart out, to scream out all the lies and deceptions until his lungs ran dry. He wanted to get on his hands and knees and beg Sam to believe that what he was saying was true.

But no matter how loud his mind screamed, no matter how much the vile around his heart twisted close, no cries of anger or anguish escaped his open mouth. No forceful or pleading movements were created by his numb body.

"And do you want to know what?" Sam smirked, leaning as far as his bonds allowed towards Dean "One day I'm going to drag you down there myself, and I am going to make you experience the most unimaginable pain you've ever felt, to the point you're going to wish you were never born."

The burning desire in Sam's eyes made Dean heart stop. The seriousness and determination that was plastered on his face confirmed Sam's words into a haunting reality.

"That's enough!" Bobby's deep gruff voice thundered through the small room suddenly, causing both brothers to jump.

Sam quickly adverted and converted his taunting gaze from Dean into a fierce menacing gaze, his teenage face scowled in a threatening glare as he observed the older man from his confined area. Contrasting the emptiness and hollowness of Dean's now pale face as he looked up at Bobby, all hope now gone from his eyes as they silently begged Bobby to reveal to him what to do next.

"Dean, go upstairs. I think it's time for me to have a little chat with Sam 'ere." Bobby kept his face frozen, the demandingness and seriousness plastered clearly on his face as he refused to remove his gaze from the bound teenager.

"Dean now!" Bobby barked as there was an unresponsive reply from Dean. Slowly the young hunter rose, silently making his way past Sam and Bobby, his eyes plastered straight ahead as he slowly trudged out of the small room, doubts, fear and a new sense of defeat now dwelling in his mind.

Once Bobby could no longer see Dean, he turned back to Sam, both participating in a silent stand-off, their eyes plastered to each other's. Intensity and tension lingered in the air as Bobby moved slowly around Sam's bed, neither of them showing any sign of breaking the gaze.

Bobby stood at the end of the bed, forcing the strong, stern mask to remain mortared on his face as the crumpling self-doubt and hatred towards himself punctured his mind as he repeatedly reminded himself that he had to do whatever it took to make Sam realise; no matter how much he hated himself for what he was about to do.

"Listen up! Let's cut the crap." Bobby barked harshly and unexpectedly, causing Sam's body to slightly jerk. "It's obvious you don't believe a goddamn thing that comes out of either of our mouths, and I don't blame you." Sam's eyebrow rose at the words coming out of the older man's mouth, completely engrossed into what he was saying, yet slightly confused as to what point he was getting at.

"But listen here Sam. I'm not like Dean. He can be patient. He can wait all the time in the world for you to finally realise who the hell you really are. But I'm not. I've been waiting six goddamn years for this day, and quite frankly you're pissing me off with all this 'Dean's dead' 'I'm going to kill you' bullshit." Sam's eyes darkened once more and his upper lip curled, a threatening scowl that darkened his whole face.

"I'm not going to sit around here watching you be one of those monsters I've spent so many years hunting, treating the brother who basically raised you like scum. So here's what I'm gunna do. If I'm right you haven't eaten in 'round bout three or so days, so I bet ya a lil hungry?" At the mere mention of food Sam's stomach growled, and Sam silently cursed at himself for allowing himself to appear even remotely weak.

"That's what I thought." Bobby smirked, forcing a menacing laugh out when honestly each word that had been said stabbed him deeper in deeper. Still being able to see the innocent ten year old in the hollow and empty eyes caused the guilt behind his actions to escalate at a dramatic rate, but he knew he had to do it.

It was the only way.

"I can manage. I've survived longer without food." Sam muttered hatefully.

"Here's the deal. You talk, open up Dean and each night you'll have a warm meal; and as bonus points each day you go without threatening him or attacking him, I'll remove one of those handcuffs."

He didn't want to give him. It fought about everything he had grown to know, to stay strong and fight, to not show any kind of weakness, to not give in and follow anyone else's orders than that of Yellow Eyes. His mind fought tooth and nail against itself, trying to determine which option he should go for; either die a slow, almost agonising death, tied to this bed without a hint of dignity, or give in to the older man requests, playing along to this game of deception as innocently as he could until he was free from his constraints and when that small window of opportunity would finally reveal itself, he would murder both of them, with or without the use of his powers.

Reluctantly he nodded his head once, quick and sharp, his face still masking any expressions from surfacing. The movement may have been quick, but Bobby had seen it. The dreaded feeling sunken deep in his stomach now slightly rose as new hope began to surface.

Keeping up his charade, Bobby allowed a returned nod, equally as short and sharp before moving himself closer to the door, almost missing the menacing smile that Sam's lips unnoticeably formed.

_Almost._

Spinning around he faced the young teenager, anger pulsed harshly through his veins as the realisation set in. This was not a bad cop routine now, this was a pure 100% pissed off Bobby Singer.

"Do you think I'm a bloody idjit do ya? Do you think I'm not aware of all the little ideas pulsing through that mind of yours? Well you listen 'ere boy. There is no way in hell am I letting you loose anytime soon. You may be the boy that I once considered a son but there is no way in hell am I risking you to try and hurt your own goddamn brother! That kid has barely slept for six years looking for your ass and not on my watch is he going to be in any sign of danger when I'm around. So you can forget about that once-a-day deal, I'll only be removing those handcuffs when I start to see the Samuel Winchester I know."

"He's not my brother." Sam hissed.

"You might not think he is now, but there was a time when you did." Bobby said flatly, reaching into his vest pocket and obtaining the small worn out and crinkled photograph, forcefully placing it in Sam's bound hand before slamming the iron door shut.

-x-

Seconds past, then minutes, how many; Sam was unsure of.

He could still feel the battered photograph in his hand, feeling the creases perfectly. He laid there, looking straight up at the large rotating fan, trying to ignore the nagging persistence in his mind to simply look at the mystery photograph in his hand.

He knew he could simply let it go, allow it to fall to the floor where he knew he wouldn't be able to see it even if he wanted too, but the thing was he actually w_anted_ to.

Ever since the eccentric yet somewhat familiar word 'idjit' had escaped the older man's mouth, an unknown entity had grown inside of him somehow telling the young boy that he had heard this foreign word before, but no matter how much he dug into his mind he couldn't quite pin point just where the source had come from.

Giving in, Sam craned his stiffened neck to the side, his eyes growing wide at the image before him. A memory that he had not experienced in so long resurfaced before him, causing tears of confusion and want to fall from his eyes.

-x-

_Four year old Sam stirred as he felt his body being lifted from the leathery seats of the Impala. Opening his eyes slowly he saw Dean's face above his, highlighting his features by the interior lights of the car. _

"_De'n? Where are we?" Sam slurred groggily, fatigue washing over him._

"_Shh Sammy. Go back to sleep." Dean hushed. Sam willingly complied with Dean's permission and allowed his head to fall limply against Dean's chest, once again falling into the world of slumber._

_-x-_

_Awaking next morning, he felt his heart rate increasing as he tried to fully contemplate his surroundings. By now he was used to waking up at foreign motel rooms, but from the moment he opened his eyes, he knew this was no motel room. _

_As fast as his little legs could carry him he ran to the closed bedroom door and pulled desperately at the door handle. Grunting in frustration and on the verge of tears Sam's thoughts darted to his older brother, wondering why he wasn't with him now. _

_After a few more attempts of trying to pry the door handle open panic eventually started to overtake him. Tears fell freely as he cried out for Dean, his sobs close to hysterical. _

_Thunderous footsteps raced up the stairs, causing the floor and walls to vibrate. Sam swallowed hard, backing away a few steps from the door, tears still falling freely from the small child's face. _

"_Sammy?!" A foreign voice called out, the use of his nickname caused his breath to hitch, he only allowed Dean to call him that, and the owner to the voice was not Dean._

"_Dean!" he called out, terrified._

_The door handle jiggled and jerked, before the entire frame of the door buckled suddenly as if someone was trying to force their way in. Sam stood frozen, fear striking him as the door moved in fierce movements until the wooden door flew open suddenly, a large and unfamiliar figure standing in its entrance._

"_Dean please!" He called out once more in desperation as he felt his legs give way as he collapsed to the floor, terror plastered over the young child's face. _

"_Sam…" the stranger called softly, edging his way closer to the trembling child._

"_Sammy!" Dean desperately called out as he raced his way up the stairs. _

"_Dean!" Sam called in relief, running towards Deans, almost bowling the nine year old over as he gripped his shirt with such force his knuckles turned white, and buried himself into Dean's chest. _

"_Woah! Sammy! What's going on?!" Dean asked, overwhelmed by the reaction of his younger brother. _

"_The-the door got st-tuck a-and I-I didn't kn-ow wh-where I-I wa-s a-and you weren't th-ere, then he-e came ou-t of no-wh-where." Sam sobbed, his voice muffled from the fabric of Dean's T-shirt._

"_Woah woah woah! Sammy relax!" Dean reassured, trying to stifle his laugh behind his soothing words. "Remember how Dad said he had to go on a really long business trip?" Dean felt Sam nod against his stomach. "Well you see Dad couldn't leave us in a motel like usual because he's gunna be gone for so long. So last night he drove us here to stay with Bobby." Sam turned his head to the side to see the older man before him give an awkward wave to the young child. _

_Dean smiled as he felt the tension from Sam's body leave and slowly removed his arms from around the small boy. Sam wiped the stray tears from his cheeks and spread his lips into a small smile. Walking over to Bobby in a strong stance, all evidence of his small breakdown now almost non-existence, he held out his right hand. _

"_Sam."_

"_Bobby." Bobby stated, smiling as he grasped the youngster's hand and shook it. _

"_Now." Sam began, his face serious and determined as he eyed the two personnel in the room. "Can we fix that stupid door handle?"_

_-x-_

Sam stared blankly at the two figures incorporating the image. The image of the four year old version of himself and his brother standing proudly next to the brand new door handle they managed to install. Dean's arm was slung around Sam's shoulder as both proudly wore a smile fuelled by achievement.

Sam's thoughts fought as they tried to determine what was real and what was fiction.

Had everything he had been told since he was taken an absolute lie?

Was what these possible 'imposters' telling him the whole time true?

Was that really the same Bobby that Sam had once considered to be another father figure in his life?

Did that mean Dean was still alive?

Did that mean that _he_ really was Dean?

Doubts started to cross his mind. He questioned everything he had ever been told, trying to determine what was real, what was a lie. Thousands of scenarios flooded his mind as he tried to make sense of his life, of _himself_.

"That the door knob photo?" a voice casually called out.

Sam's head darted to the source of the voice, his eyes alive and livid, before adverting his gaze as he saw 'Dean' standing before him.

Dean shoved his free hand awkwardly into his jean pocket, fingering the loose thread on the inside of them, trying to ignore the uncertainty and tension between the two brothers.

"Was-Was that man Bobby?" Sam silently asked shakily as he kept his gaze plastered on the rotating fan above him.

"You remember him?" Dean asked, a new sense of hope filling his chest.

"I remember everything." Sam admitted his voice becoming dark and edgy.

"Like what?" Dean pushed on, trying to gain a better insight and understanding on just what had happened to Sam.

"Everything. That night. Every night after that. The threats and torture. Killing all those innocent people."

Once more Dean felt his heart beginning to break. But at the same time, the fact that Sam was beginning to open up to Dean willingly, without the slightest hint of hatred or threat of death made Dean's heart soar. Absorbed in the moment, Dean stepped forward, a step closer to Sam.

In a flash Sam was once again looking directly at Dean, his eyes burning in hatred and fear. "Don't come near me." he hissed, spite and anger flowing from his mouth in venom.

Dean threw both his cast and free hand infront of himself as a sign of surrender, instead moving slowly in long movements around the bed before sitting down on the old metal chair he had thrown only a few hours ago.

The silence dwelled, seeming time was going ten times slower. When it became apparent that Sam wasn't going to say anything Dean pushed the matter forward, determined to get some sort of explanation out of Sam.

"Why'd you do it Sam? Why'd you kill all those people?" _'The Sam I knew never would have done that…_'He wanted to add, instead redirecting his thoughts to fight the expressions of emotional pain from becoming present on his features, and to keep his voice in a mutual tone, trying his hardest not to allow his voice to break.

"You wouldn't understand." Sam hissed, staring blankly once more at the rotating fan above him.

"Try me." Dean said flatly, his tone implying 'You-don't-have-a-bloody-option -now-spill-it'.

"I didn't even have a choice." Sam said flatly, his expression frozen in an unreadable mask, the only indication of any kind of emotion coming from his bottom lip, which was quivering slightly, as if he was in the brink of tears.

Dean felt his heart swell. He leant forward on the metal chair, leaning his elbows on his knees, just wanting to be _closer _to him, to give Sam some sort if sign that he was _there,_ that he actually _cared_.

"What do you mean you didn't have a choice?" Dean asked calmly, fighting away the anger that was brewing under the surface.

"I already killed Dean. They threatened to kill Dad too if I didn't do what they wanted." Sam admitted for an unknown reason, regretting it the moment it had escaped his mouth.

Dean froze. The sudden confession tore his heart and made the blood in his veins boil. Unshed tears welled in his eyes and he forced himself to look away from the now confused teenager, knowing that if he were to look into those hazel brown eyes he would finally break.

"What aren't you telling me?!" Sam demanded, noting the almost instant reaction given off from the older figure.

Dean stayed silent, wishing he didn't have to tell Sam what he knew.

"Tell me!" Sam demanded, practically screaming at Dean as he struggled against his bonds to become free.

"Sammy stop it goddamn it!" Dean screamed as he stood up, noting the forcing Sam was using as blood started to flow from the newly cut flesh from the handcuffs.

"Tell me!" He screamed once again, anger, determination and hatred scrawled across his face.

Dean collapsed back down on the metal chair, his breath hitching as the horrific memories started to present themselves.

"Sam…. Dad's dead."

-x-


	8. Bad Blood

**Chapter Eight- Bad Blood**

_A simple exorcism was all it was meant to be. Hunt the demon, find the demon, kill the demon, or if possible exorcise the bastard. _

_Well, that was how it was supposed to be…_

_The moment nineteen year old Dean Winchester pulled the Impala up to the rustic home, an unsettling weight of dread heaved deep down in the pit of his stomach, a feeling he had grown used to experiencing when something was to make a turn for the worst._

_Dean eyed his father, contemplating whether he should or shouldn't share the sudden perturbed feeling. When his father hurriedly exited the passenger's side and made his way to the Impala's hidden trunk of weapons, his strides fast and resolute while his face was etched with determination and dedication Dean knew there was no possibility his father would even consider abandoning this hunt on any logically explanation, let alone just on the basis of a feeling that 'something was not quite right'._

_Dean sighed before exiting the Impala and following his father, trying his hardest to ignore the unnerving feeling from his abdomen. _

"_Grab the holy water boy." John ordered gruffly._

"_Yes sir." Dean replied automatically, the phrase imprinted into his mind from when he was only a young child. Heaving the large container out of the trunk, he placed it on the ground before swinging the strap connected to the shot gun full of rock salt over his body. _

"_Hurry up boy." John ordered walking with haste towards the cottage. _

"_Coming sir." Dean called out, before picking up the container and quickly catching up to his father, the sickening feeling now becoming harder to ignore as it continued to grow each step Dean made closer to the house._

_It may have been almost six years since the disappearance of Sam, but time did not ease the somewhat awkwardness and resentment between John and Dean. _

_John still loved Dean, of course he did, Dean was still his son. But no matter how much he did love Dean; no matter how much he wanted to deny it, there was still this lingering feeling of resentment and blame hidden deep inside himself that would resurface everytime Dean stood before him. _

_John knew that the guilt of Sam's disappearance lived on Dean's shoulders with such weight it had overtaken Dean's life. The almost six year obsession on finding Sam began long before he and Bobby found Dean tied to the rotten wooden chair. _

_As time continued to pass, and Dean's obsession continued to grow, John pretended he didn't notice the sudden weight loss, the refusal to sleep assisted by the caffeinated diet and the darkened bags that lived under his eldest child's eyes. _

_Because he had suffered through the same._

_Twice. _

_Understandably Dean was too young to fully comprehend the circumstances surround Mary's death and to properly grieve, instead focusing all his time and effort into raising his six month old brother, while John himself was an obsessive mess. _

_But now Dean had no method of coping. Growing up, whenever a hunt had made a turn for the worst, including near death experiences, injuries, or in some cases deaths of close friends, Dean would separate himself from the world, distracting himself with anything Sam needed, making sure Sam was fed, clothed, bathed, and most importantly; happy._

_Sam was Dean's life, and his first priority, regardless if Sam was there or not._

_John understood the need for Dean to focus all of his time and resources into trying to find Sam, but it was the moments when Dean had finally passed out into the world of sleep after days of caffeine fuelled energy that John got a proper insight into Dean's nightmares, his memories. He could actually visualise himself in the room that fateful night. He heard Dean's groans of pains, the cries and pleads to do anything to save Sam. He saw the tears of grief and guilt flow from his eldest eyes. _

_But it was the apologies to Sam that were repeated over and over again for the failure of being Sam's big brother, his protector that made John realise just how much pain and guilt Dean was feeling over Sam's disappearance._

_He knew Sam's disappearance wasn't Dean's fault. He knew that to Dean, being a big brother; a protector was his life. The words 'Watch out for Sammy' were not just words to his eldest son; those words had become his life, and John knew that in no parallel or alternate universe Dean would never intentionally put Sam in the line danger. _

_But there were other thoughts. Thoughts that John wished his mind would never conduct and create; thoughts blaming his eldest son for Sam's disappearance. _

_He never consciously intended to form such thoughts, thoughts questioning as to why Dean didn't fight harder. Questions to why Dean didn't follow the rules John had been forcing Dean to memorise since the tender age of four. Thoughts to why Dean was so careless at not noticing the broken salt line. Questioning if Dean intentionally broke the salt line as a way to get rid of Sammy. _

_Questioning why it was Sam instead of Dean._

_He wished these thoughts and feelings didn't exist. He felt guilty as hell that this unconscious reflex even existed. But he couldn't help it. He couldn't control it. _

_He knew that Dean fought to the brink of death against the bastard. He knew that if Dean could go back to that night he would do anything in his power to stop the demon from taking Sam. John knew that if he were to blame anyone, it would be that demon that stole Sam away. _

_But when the drunken or angry or grieving John was present, the bastard wasn't there. _

_But Dean was. _

_Regret immediately followed varying within the next few seconds, to days. And god did John hate himself. After each rambled apology Dean would always say the same thing; 'It's fine'. But both Winchester's knew it was far from fine. It was completely ludicrous to even consider it. _

_Neither John nor Dean knew had to act around one another anymore. Each time Dean looked at his father he could see the pain, hatred and the resentment flash in his father's eyes each time his father looked at him. And John knew Dean could. John knew that Dean could stare straight into the miniscule resentment and blame hidden deep in him, and to Dean it was as visible as the beard on his face._

_But they continued on, constantly trying to avoid at all cost mentioning that fateful night that ripped their family apart. They chose not to face their feelings about one another, scared of what they already knew to be out in the open._

"_Ready boy?" John asked, nodding his head towards Dean._

"_Yes sir." Nodded Dean in confirmation._

_With one swift kick the wooden door flew open and they hurried into the house, weapons at the ready. _

"_Dean, you go upstairs, I'll check out down here."_

_Dean felt his blood run cold at the mention of his father searching downstairs. An invisible force was screaming at Dean to grab his father, turn around and never look back. His stomach lurched slightly as he eyed the hallway leading down into the darkened shadows of the house. _

_Something was wrong. _

"_D-dad. We have to go." Dean whispered, his voice broken as he stared wide eyed down the hallway. _

"_Dean get upstairs!" His father barked, causing Dean to slightly jump. _

"_Dad please. Something's not right." Dean begged; surprised at the vulnerability he was presenting to his father. _

"_Dean go! That's an order!" John barked impatiently, pointing his shotgun up the winding staircase before them._

_Dropping his head in defeat Dean climbed the stairs, holding the container of holy water and swinging the shotgun around so he could easily grab it and defend himself if he were to be attacked. The nauseating feeling in his stomach continued to grow as he climbed each step, almost as if an invisible force was mercilessly punching him in the stomach._

_He reached the top floor and silently combed the area, trying to force the unsettling feeling out of his system as he tried to focus on the task at hand._

_An eerie silence washed over him and he involuntary shuddered as the hair on the back of his neck rose. _

_Something definitely wasn't right._

_Dean whipped his head around with such force he was sure he had gotten whiplash when the sound of shattering glass followed by a large thump and the unmistakeable groan of his father entered his ears._

"_Dad?!" Dean yelled in panic, allowing the holy water to be soaked into the rough and worn carpet as the container fell to the floor, before focusing purely on the shot gun in his hand, grasping it with such force white tinged his knuckles._

_He hurried down the stairs, skipping two to three steps at a time as his father's grunts of pain entered his ears before more thumps and sounds of shattering glass. _

_John's screams and groans of pain ceased as Dean ran through the darkened hallway, desperately throwing doors open searching for his father, shot gun held infront of him, ready for attack._

_But it was when he burst through the third door when he felt the determination and aggression melt away from his body as his heart plummeted to the floor._

_The outline of his father's limp body could be seen, the moonlight escaping through the uncurtained window almost gave the illusion that he was sleeping a peaceful sleep. It was only when Dean saw the large shadow disappearing into his father and the dark crimson staining the surrounding carpet and John's clothing and limbs that made Dean realise the horrible truth. _

_The silence taunted Dean as he stood motionless in the doorway, absorbing the scene before him. The shattered glass from the broken furniture reflected the moonlight, bringing into focus more blood which stained the surrounding walls. _

_His father's lifeless figure rested in the middle of the room, glass and wood from the broken furniture surrounded him. Blood flowed freely from John's lower abdomen, a large piece of wood stabbed mercilessly through it, half disappearing into his flesh. _

_Dean stood frozen, tears threatening to fall as he dropped the shot gun to the floor. With slow movements, Dean struggled to walk towards his father's body as his knees buckled underneath him and his body shook dramatically._

_He unconsciously noted his father's shotgun resting just centimetres from his father's body, an easy distance to grab from his father's position. Numbly recounting the previous minutes in his head, he cursed at himself when he realised he didn't hear any gun shots go off. _

_His father didn't even get a chance to fight back. _

_Edging nearer to his father's body his limbs finally gave way and he collapsed onto the floor like a broken rag doll. He dragged his body closer to his father's, ignoring the blood once belonging to his father as it soaked into his clothing. _

_It was once he was mere centimetres from John's body he finally noticed his father's neck, twisted at such a grotesque angle the broken bone was threatening to rip straight through the flesh. He couldn't help but gag at the image before him, the final memory of his father now permanently etched in his mind. _

"_D-dad..." Dean's voice shook as he clutched his father's hands that rested on his unmoving chest. "Please dad, I can't lose you too." Dean begged, tears now falling freely from his eyes as broken sobs shuddered his body. _

"_I can't lose you too..."_

_-x-_

"That was three months ago." Dean sighed after his recount, tears threatening to fall.

"No. You're lying." Sam said numbly, his eyes narrowing as a look of pure hatred burned into Dean. "He's not dead. He can't be."

"Sammy-"

"No!" Sam yelled, anger pulsing rapidly through his veins as his body thrashed against his bonds. "You're lying! Azazel would never lie to me like that!"

"Azazel-?" Dean searched his mind, trying to recognise the somewhat familiar name. Searching through his mind he felt his blood run cold as the realisation set in. "Wait. Yellow Eyes?!" Dean asked, his eyes growing wide in bewilderment.

"Get out!" Sam hissed loudly, his face mutated into a scowl fuelled by hatred.

"Sam! Answer me goddamn it!" Dean demanded, flying off his chair as his mind worked like clockwork, slowly filling in the pieces of Sam's disappearance together. "Does he have yellow eyes?! Did yellow eyes take you?!"

"Why the hell do you care?!" Sam spat.

"Because I'm your goddamn brother that why!" Dean exclaimed, throwing both his arms open.

"You're not my brother." Sam stated, his voice dry and angry, stabbing Dean straight through the heart. "If Dean were alive he would never have left me there to waste away and die. He would have search day and night for me, he always swore he would protect me, and he did. Even when he was only four years old he threw away his childhood to raise me and give me the childhood he thought I deserved. He protected me each time Dad went away. He protected me every time some bully decided that I'd be his next punching bag. He protected me from the supernatural world for as long as he possibly could. He always protected me."

"Sam…" Dean began softly, memories resurfacing at such an alarming speed he was certain he would collapse.

A lone tear fell from Sam's eye as he drew in another breath, trying to stop his voice from breaking as the memory of his brother came into his mind. "I saw what that demon did to him while he was trying to protect me. While I was just hiding like a coward he allowed himself to be beaten and tortured. I saw the life draining from his eyes as I was pulled kicking and screaming away from his body. I allowed him to sacrifice himself for me because I was too scared and weak to stand up for myself and fight. It's because of me he's dead."

"Sam! Listen to me please!" Dean begged, Sam's words hitting Dean like bullets.

Sam looked directly into Dean's eyes, if looks could kill, Dean would be six feet under. "You'll never measure up to Dean." He hissed, making Dean recoil his hands back to his sides. "Compared to him you're nothing; you're scum. He was the strong one, not a pathetic weakling like you. And if you ever say you're my brother again, the next time your close to me I'll rip your throat out with my bare teeth."

The sorrow and pain was overridden by the anger and spite now flowing freely from Sam's mouth as he stared right through a now speechless Dean, not noticing the unshed tears that had formed in the older man's green emerald eyes.

Dean pulled a clenched fist to his mouth, coaxing a fake cough to cover the broken sobs that were threatening to escape. "Okay then." Dean said numbly, admitting a silent defeat.

He begged the unshed tears not to fall as he walked around the metal frame of the bed, trying his hardest to ignore the empty, heavy weight that had settled in the bottom of his stomach and the emotional pain that ripped and gnawed at his heart.

Sam's words repeated over and over again in his head. He knew he could of objected, and once again tried to convince Sam that he was _his _Dean, but what had just escaped Sam's mouth not only physically drained him, but also emotionally.

He felt faint as walked silently out of the room, waiting until he had closed the large metal door behind him before sliding down to the cold concrete floor and pulling his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around the before burying his head in the crook of his knees, and allowing the tears to finally fall.

To Sam he was always the strong one, and infront of Sam he was going to stay the strong one.

-x-

_Thirteen year old Sam stood before Azazel; his bright yellow eyes illuminated the darkly lit room. The stench of smoke and burning and decaying flesh still lingered in the stone room, still causing Sam to breathe through his mouth to avoid the foul stench._

"_Well today's the day Sammy boy." Azazel grinned widely, watching as Sam's limbs recoiled closer to his body, trying to make himself as small as possible. _

_Sam shut his eyes tightly, as if he were trying to demolish Azazel's presence from the room. Sam knew clearly that if Azazel were here then either he was made to do something he didn't want to do, or Azazel would inflict ten times more pain on Sam to force Sam to comply._

"_What are you going to do with me?" Sam murmured, hugging his arms closer to his chest, faintly tracing the jagged scars trailing his bicep, trying to distract himself from the unsettling heaviness lying in the pit of his stomach. _

"_Glad you asked!" Azazel expressed enthusiastically. "Your powers are growing Sam." He explained with a sinister grin on his face._

_Sam looked up at Azazel, his head tilted and eyebrow cocked as curiosity took over him. "What do you mean…" Sam asked, unsure if he wanted to know the answer._

"_You're much more powerful than what you were when your first came here, and I plan to take advantage of that." Azazel's yellow eyes glowed in anticipation, sending shivers to spread down Sam's spine. _

"_That doesn't answer my question." Sam said blankly, regretting it immediately as an invisible force cuffed his cheek, sending his head rolling to the side._

"_I'm just going to give you a little booster." Azazel smiled tauntingly, his eyes burning in fierce determination. _

_Sam's stomach flipped as three figures entered the darkened room, each of their eyes pure ebony black._

_Sam recoiled his body as he saw the demons approaching. Sam had enough experience to know that when demons appeared with a sinister smile etched on their face, things never turned out well for him._

_The torture sessions had eased up after he finally complied with Azazel, but he was still subject to routine torturous session both physical and emotional. _

_Sam wasn't sure which one was worse._

_The emotional torture including bringing forth the guilt and responsibility of Dean's death, as well as the constant reminder than if Sam were to do something wrong, his father, the only surviving Winchester, would become subject to one of the most painful methods of constant torture. _

_The scars and pain he would continue to experience with the slightest movements were constant reminders of what he was bound to endure to make sure his slightly broken and damaged soul would stay just like that; broken and damaged._

_According to Azazel, he was now 'much easier to control' that way._

_The demons moved closer to Sam, taking their time which sent Sam's nerves over the edge. His body trembled as he walked backwards, until his body hit the cold, hard wall. Swallowing hard, he tried to hide the fear radiating off him, but he knew that they could all see through his pathetic act. _

_They always did._

_-x-_

_Struggling was useless. The inhumane strength of the two demons that held his thirteen year old body in place, with such force it felt like his limbs were being crushed by dozens of bricks. He could feel his bones weaken under the immense weight, the bruises beginning to form. He knew it was nearly impossible to escape, but that didn't stop him from struggling._

_He arched his back off the stone cold ground, twisting and turning his body as much as what was humanly possible, trying to writhe out of the demon's grasps. Pain burned through his limbs, reflecting the desperation Sam was using and feeling in trying to free himself. _

_The third lent down above Sam's head, and gripped both sides of his neck tightly, forcing his head to stay perfectly still. _

"_Just relax Sam. Just think of how powerful you'll be after this." Azazel smiled, bringing Dean's silver knife to his arm, easily slicing his flesh apart, red crimson flowing freely from the wound. "Your telekinesis will be a hundred times more powerful." He grunted as he lowered himself onto Sam, straddling him, smiling at Sam as his fearful eyes eyed the bleeding wound. "Now all you can do is move a few more objects here and there. With this." Azazel nudged towards his bleeding arm. "You'll be able to move __**buildings**__."_

_Sam attempted to shake the demons that were successfully holding his limbs in place. Registering what Azazel wanted to do, he forced his mouth shut. Placing his lips over and under his teeth he forced his jaw shut, shaking his head in not only disagreement, but also in a feasible attempt to keep the dripping blood away from him._

"_Oh come on Sammy." Azazel glared, noting what Sam was trying to do. "Open up."_

_Stubbornly Sam attempted to shake his head, but the demon continued to hold his head firmly in place. _

_Sighing in frustration, his eyes burning in anger Azazel placed his free hand over the young teenager's nose, restricting air from entering his system, while placing the bloodied wound against Sam's clenched mouth. _

_His lungs burned as they begged for precious oxygen. He felt the warm blood spread across his face as he tried to struggle away from the bloodied wound. His lungs clawed for the air they so desperately needed, his head felt faint and his chest became hot and heavy._

_Metallic crimson flowed freely into the young teenager's mouth when his lips finally parted. Azazel removed his hand from Sam's nose before gently patting his brown curls. "That's it Sammy, drink up." He smiled as he felt the reluctance finally wear off the young teenager. _

_At first Sam fought against it, he really did. But as more of the warm crimson ran down his throat he felt his body warm and for once he felt the hurt disappear. The blood pulsed through his body rejuvenating with such power he could literally feel his cells gaining more energy. _

_The weight was lifted off his arms, legs and his neck, and he greedily grasped the flesh surrounding the wound, pressing it harder against his lips to force more of the liquid down his throat. _

_His eyes remained closed as he savoured the blood as it sufficed his body's craving desires for the power the blood supplied. He winced in desperation when the source of blood was finally removed, the enticing and tantalising electricity of the blood still tingling on his blood stained lips._

_Azazel removed himself from Sam and smiled knowingly at the engrossed teenager, laying spread out with his eyes still closed, licking the remainder of the blood from around his mouth._

"_How do you feel Sammy?" Azazel smirked._

_Sam's eyes opened at the yellow eyed figure above him, his smile twisting into a sinister smirk. _

"_Powerful." He smirked as his brown eyes disintegrated into pure blackness. _

**-x-**


	9. Withdrawal

**Chapter Nine- Withdrawal**

"I don't know how much more I can take of this Bobby." Dean hissed as the whiskey burnt down the extremities of his throat once more.

Bobby looked up from the open pile of books surrounding him, his eyes wide with surprise. "What the hell are you on about boy?" Bobby snapped, the surrealism and lack of believability present in his voice.

Dean swallowed hard, wishing he didn't have to do it. But he knew his regular coping mechanism of turning himself on autopilot and banishing all the pain and anguish from surfacing in the eyes of others wouldn't help Sammy at all.

In the eyes of others, he was fine, easily dealing with whatever unfortunate situation he had suffered through, when in reality, deep down past the fake smile and emotionless mask he forced himself to wear, the heroic hunter Dean Winchester was breaking apart, hanging together by a single thread; that thread being Sam.

The motivation into finding his younger brother is what kept him alive, giving him the right incentive and dedication to continue fighting against whatever monster threatened to take away his life. However, he loathed himself for the fact he had been ready to give up, and simply throw down his weapons and resist fighting on numerous hunts, just for the off chance he could finally escape the hurt and pain that continued to grow and linger inside of him and intensify close to unbearable as each day past.

But even at his weakest points, when he was so close into giving up everything, memories and images of his brother entered his mind, and suddenly Dean realised why he was doing what he was doing; to find a way to get Sam back while saving other people from feeling the same pain he felt due to the monsters that took his brother away. The legacy of his brother lived through him, fuelling him to continue on, to live and fight through all the hurt burning deep down inside of him, to not give up on the most important thing of his life; Sam.

But now that thread was wearing thin.

His own brother; his own flesh and blood; his own personal lifeline, was causing even more pain then he had ever experienced. Dean was now on the verge of desperation into finding a solution into dealing and rehabilitating Sam, to try and bring back the recognition and memories that refused to surface, to not only save the traumatised and indoctrinated Sammy, but also to save himself.

Desperate times called for desperate measures, and Dean was willing to throw all his emotions on the line and bring forward the vulnerability and pain which had been growing and bottling up long before Sam had even been taken.

He was willing to do whatever was remotely possibly for the slightest chance he could help Sam remember that he _was_ Samuel Winchester; the kid who always had his head buried in a book and was a complete geek in school. That he was the Samuel Winchester who loved his family and loved helping others. That he wasn't this monster that enjoyed killing people.

"That _thing_ down there is not my brother Bobby." Dean said softly, gripping the counter with such force his knuckles tinged white before the tone of his voice turned dark and cold.

"If he didn't look like Sammy, if he didn't have those god damn puppy dog eyes that used to manipulate me to do something for him, he'd be dead by now. He's the exact thing I've been trained to hunt and kill since I was four fucking years old. He's killed people Bobby, _innocent_ people. He tried to kill me, and not with a knife or a gun oh no, with his goddamn mind. The hunter in me is screaming for me to kill him. To stab him, or shot him or do whatever is remotely possible to make sure he's dead so he can't harm another living person…" Dean breathed in deeply, savouring the restriction of emotion it supplied.

"But then there's this other voice…" he trailed off, staring directly out the dirt coated window, not daring to even look at Bobby's expression at his confession that took at least four full glasses of whiskey to finally be allowed to be revealed.

"It's not my voice." He continued sighing. "It's Sam's. It's the whiney ten year old voice begging me not to kill him, to try harder to make him realise who I am. That I'm Dean, the brother he's so convinced that's dead. And I want too. God I want to. I want my brother back Bobby, but he's not exactly making it easy to convince myself that he's not a monster, that the little snot nosed brat is still there behind all the evil…" he lowered his chin against his chest as his voice broke, finding it suddenly hard to allow the confession to flow from his mouth. Swallowing deeply he continued on, ignoring the urge to have another drink to make this confession easier to say.

"But I don't know what the hell to do anymore Bobby. Everytime I think I'm getting a step closer to him, that I'm breaking down that brick wall hiding the Sam I know, he snaps, and the evil monster is back. I don't know what to fucking do anymore, and I don't know if I'm even strong enough to handle all this shit."

Dean flinched as he felt the heavy weight unexpectedly appear on his shoulder. Turning his head to the side and through the unshed tears he noted the weight belonged to the older man's hand, a positive, meaningful reassuring gesture that Dean so desperately needed through all the negativity that had overwhelmed his life in such a short period of time.

"Dean…" Bobby's gruff voice mustered softly. "This isn't just hard for you boy. Imagine all the shit Sam's gone through. You've seen the scars boy, you've seen how messed up he is, he doesn't know what to believe anymore. He was only ten years old when they took him, still a kid, and for six years he's been tortured, not only physically but also mentally. He's been made to believe that he killed you; the one person that always protected him his entire life, the one person who meant the most to him." he took in a deep breath, gently but firmly turning the young hunter around to face him. Bobby placed both his hands on Dean's shoulders and looked into the glazed, lifeless emerald eyes that usually burned brightly.

"But the Sam we both remember_ is_ there," Bobby assured, shaking Dean for added emphasis, his mind now numbly allowing the sentences to flow, as if he had unconsciously been preparing this speech for months. "And of course it's not going to be simple to break down that brick wall that took six years to build. But Dean, you've stood by him, even after he almost killed you, and continued to threaten you. You're a freaking idjit just to think you're not strong enough to bring Sam back! It's only been a few days, but he is actually starting to listen to you!" Bobby felt his heart swell slightly as he saw Dean's eyes regain life, the fog cleared from them as the realisation set in. "I know it's not much, but it's a start, and it sure as hell bets him pretty much choking you to death." Bobby smirked jokingly, glad to see the same response as the corner of Dean's lips twitched upwards.

A few moments of silence had passed, and Bobby's tough persona reappeared as fast as it had disintegrated. He melodramatically patted Dean on the back before ushering towards the tray sitting on the counter. "Now shuttup with all this 'I'm not good enough crap' and go give this tray of food to Sam." he gruffly ordered; the small smile still present on his features before he turned around and returned back to his research.

Dean shook his head and let out a small silent laugh, Bobby's words repeating in his mind settling the nerving pit in the base of his stomach. With added relief, hope and determination Dean picked up the tray of food and made his way towards the panic room.

He paused at the doorway leading down to the basement, before turning around and facing the back of the older hunter. "Thanks Bobby." he smiled, truly meaning what he had said, before walking down the flight of stairs.

"Anytime boy. Anytime."

-x-

_He never wanted this. _

_This burning desire his body craved for power._

_His head throbbed and his muscles ached and he felt like his body was on fire. He didn't know how many days had passed since he was forced the blood, or even what had happened. His mind was clouded and blank. No matter how deeply he searched, no matter how forcefully he begged himself to remember, all his memories from the last previous days could not be recovered, as if they didn't even exist. _

_He placed his burning cheek on the cold, damp floor and savoured the contrast of temperatures that allowed him such little pleasure in this place filled with terror. _

_His eyes were closed shut, and he refused to open them, not wanting to be reminded of where he was, of all the torture and pain he had and was bound to endure. He imagined it was Dean's cool hand against his cheek, supplying him with the much needed soothing of his hot flesh; just like Dean used to do for him whenever he was sick growing up._

_He let out a muffled sob at the memory, the pain of missing Dean becoming present as it gnawed at his heart. _

_Curling himself into a ball, in attempt to stop his shaking body, he suddenly noticed the heaviness of his clothing, and the crackling roughness of his skin. A smell he couldn't distinguish in his delirious state entered his nose and he scrunched his face, the movement causing an unpleasant feeling of his skin breaking as his face creased._

_With a shaking hand he wiped away a stray tear that had fallen from his eyes and trailed down towards his mouth, the familiar taste of copper entered his mouth and he felt his stomach lurch at the realisation._

_Blood. _

_Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit._

_Was he bleeding?_

_Maybe that's why his body hurts so much?_

_Maybe he was on the brink of death and didn't even realise it?_

_Was it even his blood?_

_He wasn't sure which he'd rather._

_Maybe this nightmare would finally be over._

_Maybe all of his prayers to finally die were being answered._

_He was tired of fighting, suffering. _

_Tired of being a part of this sick twisted game of 'Operation; Demon Style'._

_Maybe he'll finally be able to see Dean again. _

_Hesitantly he cracked open his eyes, the light from the never ending fire burning outside illuminated the room, bright enough to cause Sam to let out a hiss of pain as his retinas burned from the sudden change of lighting._

_He blinked a few times, wincing at the pain surging through his eyes as they tried to adapt to the harshness of the lightning. Soon the pain ceased, and the fogged clear. Black specs invaded his vision but soon faded away as his eyes finally readjusted to the intensity of the light._

_He held his breath and dared himself to look down, his eyes immediately growing wide at the large amount of dried and still fresh blood that stained his clothing and flesh._

_There was not one piece of fabric nor skin that had not been exposed to blood. The red crimson was soaked and splattered mercilessly across him, as if someone had thrown a giant can of red paint over him, then continued flicking more of it with a paintbrush. _

_Panic quickly struck him and adrenaline burned through him, erasing all the pain his quivering body had felt only moments ago. Quickly he stood up and searched his body in panic, trying to find any open wound that could explain the amount of blood coating him. _

_He wasn't sure whether to be relieved or partly disappointed when he found no sign of injury on his body._

_His breathing hitched as he slowly took in the sight before him; his mind running a thousand miles an hour trying to remember who or what the source of the blood had coming from. _

_The unknowingness taunted him and he buried his head into his blood coated hands, terror spreading through his thirteen year old body. _

"_What happened to me?" Sam whispered with his head still buried in his hands, trying his hardest to keep the tears welling in his eyes from breaking out and flowing freely from his cheek._

_They loved it when their victims presented any sign of vulnerability. It meant they had broken them. Stabbed and gutted them to their soul, removing the glimmer of hope that each trapped soul used to cling onto in hopes that this horror would end.  
But as time passed by at a diminutive rate, and the pain became so unbearable that hope would slowly chip away piece by piece, until there was nothing left. _

_And Sam didn't want to give them the satisfaction. Through all the physical and emotional torture there was still that small thread of hope and determination burning fiercely alive in his soul. He wasn't going to allow that small thread to burn out and fade away. He knew he needed to stay strong, to continue to fight, not only for his father, but also for the memory and legacy of Dean. _

"_You just experienced the capability you have Sam." came the familiar voice that caused Sam's body to tremble._

"_Where did all this blood come from?" Sam whispered, scared to know the truth of what he had done._

"_You did what you were told to do Sam." smiled Azazel as he placed his hand on the young teenager's shoulder, smirking at the sudden stiffness that enveloped his body at the touch. _

_Sam looked up at the yellow eyed demon standing before him, anger pulsing through his veins, the look on determination plastered on his face. "What did you make me do?" he demanded stiffly._

"_I didn't make you do anything Sammy. I just told you to get that little boy. Ripping his young parents to shreds was all you."_

_Sam's strong exterior disintegrated and the bile rose swiftly in his throat, too quickly to force it back down. His body collapsed to the ground and convulsed with each heave, the images of the young man and woman now becoming clear through his deserted memories, their screams echoing endlessly in his mind, begging for mercy. Sam could actually feel the vibration of the younger woman's neck snapping in his grasp, their blood splattering on his face and clothing as he ripped their limbs from their body with the simple use of his mind. _

"_Why?" Sam croaked, cringing at the foul taste left in his mouth._

"_Why Sam? I'll tell you why. The past two years just haven't been good enough. You're sloppy. You feel remorse, you're not willing to kill those who are in the way to what you want to get. I've tried breaking you, to create you into a merciless killer, to try and expand your powers to their fullest potential. But you and your self-righteousness__** always**__ gets in the way." Azazel growled, before walking over to the trembling boy who still knelt over the pile of vomit, his face a ghostly white and kneeled down to his eye level. _

"_So I took all that away. I made you a part of the most evil and merciless creatures that roam this earth, I gave you my blood to share the malicious nature of being a demon with you, while also enhancing the powers I gave you so many years ago. You're one of us now Sam." Yellow Eyes smiled fuelled by pride._

"_No!" Sam screamed, forcing himself up into a standing position, careful to not allow himself to fall as a wave of dizziness washed over him at the sudden movement. "I will never be one of you. You can torture me and threaten me as much as you want, but I will never do anything like this again!"_

_Azazel let out a humourous chuckle, standing himself, a sinister and taunting smirk plastered on his face as he looked down to Sam, his face just inches away from his. "You have no choice Sammy. As you learnt two weeks ago, I will get what I want, even if I have to force it down your fucking throat." He growled warningly, pushing the weakened and battered teenager to the ground with one hand and walking back toward the metallic door. _

"_Oh and Sammy? Getting demon blood out of your system…..?" he song-sung, watching in satisfaction as the boy's head whipped upwards towards him, his yellow eyes burning brightly in anticipation._

"_More painful than any torture session you've experienced." He smirked knowingly, his smile spread as he watched the fear override the young boy, before slamming the door shut swiftly behind him._

-x-

Sam jerked awake suddenly, his cells dancing alive as the electrical current obliterated through him, begging, craving, desperately searching for any remaining source of the blood in his system.

And fuck did it hurt.

It felt like his heart was going to leap out of his chest with its inconsistent rhythm. The erratic movement of his chest burned with each lungful of air he took, causing him to arch his body off the mattress from the amount of pain, almost praying that this movement would help sooth it. If it was not for the metal handcuffs digging into his flesh he would be clawing at his flesh, trying to escape the tightness of his skin that seemed to withheld him.

His body was cased in a cold sweat that seemed to weigh him down, doing little to sooth the itchiness that pulsated through him. Nausea washed over him as his body convulsed involuntarily once more.

His mind was fogged and clouded; he couldn't properly think or make sense of anything surrounding him as the room seemed to spin. Each time he tried to focus on a surrounding object his mind sent a catapult of pain shooting down his entire spine, vibrating and sparking up every single pain receptor he had. His senses were heightened and magnified; the low dim light felt as if he was being stabbed in the eyes, his eardrums pounded at the soft snoring at the figure slumped over the chair directly opposite him; and his receptors were alive with pain and emotion.

He had no control over himself as the lust for the unwanted blood defiled his body.

He locked his jaw, withholding the grunt of pain that was dying to escape through his lips in a desperate attempt of not wanting to draw attention to himself by the imposter that was dedicated into making Sam believe he was his dead brother. Another wave of unbearable pain and desire surged through his body once more, causing his body to convulse once more; much longer this time.

He gripped the metal handcuffs in a feasible attempt of stopping his convulsing body with such force more blood escaped from the new and reopened wounds that cased his wrists. He was scared his teeth were going to give way and shatter from the immense weight he was issuing on them in attempt to keep his jaw closed as he clenched his eyes firmly shut, trying to fight his way through the pain that was pulsating through his body. Tears of pain and anguish welled in his eyes as he screamed silently through his closed jaw, the scream loud and precise in his mind, yet could be barely heard if you were to be standing next to him.

Time had seemed to slow as the pain ripped mercilessly through him, without the signal that it was going to stop anytime soon.

He cursed in his mind over and over again. He hated the whole process, but he loathed himself even more for craving it. The demon blood fucked with his mind and body, turning himself into a monster he knew, or at least hoped he wasn't.

At first, each time Azazel had decided it was time for Sam to go out and collect another child, Sam would fight like hell to get away from the bleeding wound, from not only the demons holding him down, but also for the darker part of him that wanted it, so fucking bad.

It was a drug, and he was the involuntarily addict.

The more he hated it, the more his body craved it. The levels of temptation his body craved for the blood always intensified and overwhelmed him, and Azazel was smart, or more twisted as to giving Sam more whenever he was close from recovering.

Soon he didn't even bother to fight anymore, the lust for the blood becoming much too much to bare.

So when it came to the withdrawal process, he accepted the torturous pain as if to punish himself for becoming weak and giving into the need that lingered through his cells.

At first he felt like he deserved this pain, this torture. He never knew what he had done, what chaos he had caused, or who he had killed in the time the demon blood had taken over his body, but he knew that it was never good. Sometimes Azazel would mention little things that triggered all memories of the past two weeks in which one hit of blood would usually last, just to torture him even more.

Azazel was always good at torture.

But soon, the pain associated with the withdrawal process was just that; pain.

The guilt and self-righteousness now seemed so inadequate to Sam, it no longer bothered him if he would wake up covered in another being's blood, memories from the last hit non-existent.

It was just the process.

His eyelids closed shut; heaviness seemed to weigh them down as the inched closer and closer together. But pain flared his body once more, shooting through his veins at an excruciating rate. His entire body arched off the bed and the scream finally escaped his mouth as his chest flew upwards. He craned his neck backwards, his mouth wide open as the pain shattered through him once more.

-x-

Dean jolted awake from his drunken slumber, the scream radiating through his ears, echoing through the small room, sobering him up almost instantly.

"Sammy!" he screamed in panic, instantly dropping the now cold food that had been resting on his lap all over the concrete floor as he ran over to his baby brother who was trapped mid-air screaming bloody death.

As Dean approached the bed in panic the force holding Sam's body up mid-air evaporated, and his long, lanky limbs collapsed back onto the bed as more screams erupted into the small room.

"Sam! Goddamn it!" Dean cursed, noting the blood flowing from his wrists and leaping onto the bed and straddling Sam, trying to restrict his convulsing body as it writhed against his bonds. He grasped the younger teenager's shoulders, trying to limit his movement, grunting at the searing pain shooting through his broken arm, ignoring the screaming pain pulsating through his body to remove it.

Sam's eyes burst open, his familiar brown eyes now ebony black. Dean didn't have any time to react before Sam head turned and lunged forward, gripping onto Dean's arm with his bare teeth.

Dean screamed in pain and instinctively pulled his arm away, feeling his flesh rip away as the warm crimson flowed freely down his arm, the rest coated over his younger brother's face.

"What the hell is going on-?!" Bobby exclaimed wide eyed as he saw the blood trickling down Dean's arm and smeared across Sam's mouth.

"Bobby help me!" Dean grunted, watching in terror as Sam's eyes rolled back into his sockets, his body still convulsing under Dean's weight; harder and faster.

Within a second Bobby was next to Dean, trying to control the teenager's long, lanky limbs from thrashing uncontrollably against them, although the help wasn't needed for long before Sam's body stopped moving as he fell into the world of unconsciousness, lifeless, limp and now completely unresponsive.

"Sammy! Oh please wake up goddamn it!" Dean cursed, shaking his younger brother's shoulder once more, trying to render him back into the world of consciousness, ignoring the older hunter as he tried to pull the blonde haired boy away.

"Dean, that's enough. There's nothing else you can do."

-x-

**A/N **

**So….. What did you think? **

**Hope you all enjoyed!**

**Until next chapter!**

**-Lexii xo**


	10. Bad Meets Evil

**A/N- Okay, if it has been a while since you've read the first few chapters and the following flashback makes little to no sense, I'd advise for you to just quickly glance over the first flashback at the beginning of Chapter Three- No Mercy Given. Basically the flashback in Chapter Three was Sam's point of view; the flashback in this chapter is Dean's.**

**Chapter Ten- Bad Meets Evil**

_The light flashed before his eyes before he found himself rendered in complete darkness._

_A mixture of heat and cold cocooned his battered and broken body; although the mixture did not provide the slightest amount of warmth or comfort._

_He could feel the coldness that wrapped itself around his skin. He could feel the painful shiver vibrating through his body, giving him the misconception that his skin was crawling with thousands of insects._

_He could feel the coldness growing and spreading inside of him, freezing his throat; his chest; his lungs, making it near impossible for him to swallow; to move; to breathe._

_But he could also feel his injuries burning a fiery hell, scorching him inside and out. He could feel the intolerable pain surging through him, sparking his pain receptors alight. _

_His whole body ached as the fire continued to spread within, never mixing or soothing with the freezing cold; oh no. Instead the two opposing temperatures seemed to work together in a twisted alliance in order to inflict the most torturous amount of pain to the young teenager._

"_No! Dean! Please!"_

_His younger brother's desperate cries filled his otherwise clouded mind, bringing forth an even more agonising pain to the young teenager as the realisation that he was physically incapable to anything but sit there and listen to Sam's desperate cries for his older brother to help him, to save him, to protect him._

_His brother was being attacked, taken, and here he was, Dean fucking Winchester stuck in his own fucking mind because he can't handle a fucking punch._

_A dark fog began to surround him, bringing along Sammy's desperate cries with it._

_Hearing his pleads for help caused more pain than the hour long torture session he had just been forced to endure._

"_Sammy!" he desperately called out into the darkness, trying his hardest to ignore the vivid pain of the extremities of his throat being mercilessly ripped to pieces._

"_No! Dean!"_

_The voice faded into a silent whisper, the blackness taking over the vastness of his mind, blocking out the desperate screams that called out for him._

"_No! Sammy!" he grunted, forcing his feet to move despite their painful objections as an even more excruciating pain surged through him as he ran blindlessly away from the darkness, trying to find any way out of it and back to the world of the living, back to the world with Sam._

_The inadmissible sounds of a struggle refused to enter his mind. He couldn't acknowledge the fierce grunts of pain and combat nor could he register the loud thump of a child's body as it harshly connected with the floor. _

_His mind didn't pick up on the dragging of worn rubber against the cold floor, or the sudden silence that surrounded him in the now empty motel room._

_Instead he ran, and the further he ran away from the darkness, the tighter his chest became. The unknown entity around his body tightened with each step, restricting and making each possible breath ten times more painful than it already was._

"_One more step Dean." He groaned to himself, dragging forward his leg with his hand, feeling as if it suddenly weighed an entire ton. Sweat cascaded down his entire body, the fire still burning vigorously inside of him, completely contrasting the ice cold temperature of his skin. _

_He turned back, his eyes wide as he realised just how close the blackness was to him. "One more step! Come-on god damn it!" he cursed at the exhaustion and pain weighing him down, preventing him from helping Sammy._

_He grasped his leg tightly, trying to heave it forward, but it was as if it had been trapped in invisible, dry concrete. He let go of his leg and harshly pulled it, praying to a God he didn't believe to free his leg from the invisible weight._

_He pulled harder and faster, and instead of pulling himself free, he fell downwards, winding himself instantly from the sudden fall._

"_Get the up. Get the fuck up!" he grunted to himself as he gasped for air. "Get the fuck up and go help Sammy!" The blackness continued to edge closer, slower, as if it was taunting him and amused for his failed efforts in trying to regain consciousness. _

"_Stop being this lousy excuse for a hunter!" he growled at himself. "Stop being this lousy excuse for a brother!" _

_Panic began to settle in as the edges of his mind and vision tinged ebony black, mercilessly attacking at his vulnerable mind, edging closer and closer to the centre of his vision, blacking out any chance to escape back to the outside world; back to Sam._

"_I'm so sorry Sammy." He whispered, closing his eyes as the hope and fight escaped him when the pain become almost too much to bare. He could feel the blackness creep up on him, sending a wave of shivers through his pain affiliated body. _

_Just before it engulfed him, an ear piercing scream shattered the blackness surrounding him, his eyes flying open in under a second as his mind recognised the person in which it came from. _

"_SAMMY!" He screamed louder than ever, effortlessly jumping back up onto his own two feet, not caring about the added agony that he was certain would evade his body._

_A hiss of pain escaped his lips as a blinding light radiated around him, the light so bright it felt like his eyes were on fire._

"_D-Dean." The voice of his baby brother called out, momentarily easing the excruciating pain radiating through him as he felt his heart swell, and for a spilt second Dean thought he had won._

_The smile he had in his mind wavered and transformed into a scowl of pain as he felt Sam's small hand wrap around his own, a simple soothing touch for Sam; a fiery hell for Dean._

_In his mind the touch ignited all the pain that had been removed just seconds ago to burn brightly once again. _

"_M…'m so sorry Sammy." He slurred, trying to keep his head upright, fighting to meet those innocent brown eyes that had witnessed too much horror for his tender age; fighting to stay in the world of consciousness and not in the fiery hell his mind was trapped in. _

_As each second torturously passed by, the burning pain intensified, circling him in a ring of fire._

"_No Dean. I'm the one that's sorry." his brother's teary eyed apology became hard to focus on as the terrifying realistic scene played on in his mind. The fiery reminiscences reflected in his green orbs, illuminating the pure agonising fear present in the as the ring of fire closed in, _

"_You…..deserve this."_

_Dean's head whipped upwards, his eyes wide and confused. _

_That wasn't Sammy was it?_

_No! Sammy would never say that!_

"_You…..tell him where I am."_

"_No! No I didn't Sammy!" Dean cried out, tears welling in his eyes as the burning fire echoed his brother's heart shattering words._

_Dean jerked his body in a pitiful attempt to avoid the flames as they encircled even closer to him, before finally enveloping his body._

"_You're the one…..You're the one." _

_He allowed the pain fuelled scream to escape his mouth as both the physical and emotional pain became past the point of unbearable. His scream echoed for miles as the flames engulfed him, the putrid smell of his own burning flesh entered his nose bitterly causing him to want to gag._

"_Worry…..Dean."_

"_You…deserve this."_

"_You're the one…."_

"_You….tell them where I am"_

"_You….deserve this."_

_He felt his skin tighten and crackle, his hands now scorched ebony black as the fire continued to burn mercilessly on his body. He was momentarily memorised by the dancing flames that engulfed his hands, his senses and pain receptors now becoming numb as the realisation of death became near, a realisation he gratefully accepted with open arms._

_His body collapsed to the floor, a new sense of peace washed over him as his eye lids became heavier and harder to keep open. The brightness of the flames that still engulfed his body soon became vague and blurred as the darkness clouded his almost lifeless eyes. _

"_I'm so sorry Sammy…" he whispered as the emerald green that once had burned brightly in his eyes faded away._

-x-

Dean had been pacing around the small room for the past two hours now, refusing Bobby's orders to eat, rest or sleep.

Another bandage was now wrapped tightly around his forearm, yet again adding to the collection of injuries he had obtained from his younger brother.

He watched the unconscious figure cautiously as he paced, his mind running rabid as it tried to process and come up with a logical explanation to explain what happened those few short hours ago that were now just an over analysed blur in his mind.

His heart continued to cringe as he watched Sam's body jerked every few minutes as his forehead was creased in worry and pain, trapped in the world of unconsciousness, his trip obviously being anything but pleasant.

A cold sweat had slightly coated the younger teenager's body, drafting his dark bangs to his forehead. The rattling and scraping of the handcuffs against the bed frame had been driving him mental for the past eighty-five minutes when Sam's body first began to gently convulse, though not to the extent it had been before, much to Dean's relief.

He couldn't lie that and say that it didn't kill him watching his baby brother struggle and suffer before him, but what killed him even more was the fact he couldn't protect him from the terror going on inside of his own mind, just like how he couldn't protect him that night he was taken away.

"Dean, we need to talk." Bobby announced, as he opened the large iron door and leaned against the doorframe, his face etched with worry and concern while his body language screamed that he didn't know what the fuck to do and he sure as hell wasn't comfortable in having this conversation.

"What is it Bobby?" Dean asked hurriedly as he continues to pace around the small room.

"Explain to me what happened 'ere tonight?" he asked, or softly order as he folded his arms over his chest.

Dean stopped pacing and knew he couldn't avoid the conversation about what happened any longer. He walked over to the metal chair and collapsed down on it, roughly dragging his hands over his face, trying to rid the fatigue and worries that washed over him. "I don't know Bobby." Dean sighed, adverting his gaze back to his little brother. "I was just sleeping right here, and next thing I know Sam's screaming bloody murder in mid-air."

Bobby scratched his bread. "Mid-air?" he asked to clarify.

Dean nodded in conformation. "Yeah, mid-air."

Bobby nodded, absorbing the information, and ushered the young hunter on.

"So of course I run straight over to him and he just…collapses back down on the bed and starts shaking and kicking and screaming. The whole bed was shaking Bobby. Then I see that he's fought so hard against those handcuffs that blood's basically _pouring _out of him. So I did the first thing I thought of; stop him. So I jump on him and try and hold him down….and then he opened his eyes…and they were pure black. Next thing I know…"

"He's biting your arm?" Bobby filled in.

Dean shook his head. "No he wasn't just biting it Bobby… he was trying to drinking my blood."

-x-

"So we thinking vamp?"

"Nah, Bobby he didn't have the fangs." Dean sighed dramatically, throwing the book he had finally finished skimming through with onto the growing pile of books in Bobby's library floor.

"Well I honestly have no flippin' idea what the hell is going on with Sam." Bobby grunted roughly closing the large book infront of him.

"You and me both…" Dean muttered under his breath. "Speaking of Sam, it's been awhile, I think I better check on him." Dean announced, standing up before groaning from the stiffness of his limbs.

He stretched his arms and legs out quickly before making his way back down to the panic room.

With his free hand he dug in his right breast pocket of his leather jacket, a newly found permanent home for the key to the panic room, a place where he could quickly and easily find it if he needed to.

He pushed open the door and held back a gasp at the large amounts of sweat coating the young teenager and the fierceness of his shaking body.

"Shit!" Dean cursed, running to the bathroom and soaking a towel in the cold water that flowed from the tap before rushing back to the panic room, not giving a rat's ass if his cast had gotten wet.

"Hey, Sammy. It's okay. You're burning up and I just need to get your temperature down okay?" Dean explained softly, not even sure if Sam could hear him, mimicking the soothing voice he always used to use when Sam was sick or had a nightmare when he was younger.

He gently placed the towel on Sam's forehead, feeling the shiver radiating through his body as it came in contact with his burning skin.

"That's good Sam." Dean soothed, patting the towel across his forehead.

"Please….Make it stop." Sam whispered, barely audible, but Dean had heard it perfectly. The pleading words shocked through him as the innocent ten year old Sammy surfaced before him.

Sam still had his eyes closed, but his lips quivered together, and for a moment Dean considered taking the towel away as he saw the goosebumps rise on the young teenager, but completely disregarded the idea.

"It hurts so bad. My chest is on fire, but I'm so cold."

Careful of his cast, Dean gently cupped either side of his little brother's face, knowing that what he was about to ask could completely backfire in his face and then they would be straight back to square one. "Sammy…I need you to open your eyes okay? Can you do that for me?" he asked gently, nerves running riot inside of him as he saw Sam's eyelashes momentarily flutter as Sam attempted to open his eyes.

"That's it Sammy… Almost there. Come on you can do it." he pushed on, his heart ready to implode from his chest at the agonising anticipation.

Sam's eyes fluttered more open as he struggled to keep his eye lids open. Using whatever energy he had hidden inside of him he successfully managed to fully open his eyes.

Dean stared intently into Sam's dazed and clouded eyes, hoping, hell praying to see some recognition to spark in them.

"Sam? Sammy? You there?"

Confusion drifted across the young teenager's face as he struggled to focus on the figure standing before him.

"De'n?" he mumbled incoherently in a hushed whisper, the loudest he could manage.

"Yeah Sammy; it's me." Dean smiled as his chest swelled.

"You really 'live?" Sam questioned hazily, his eye lids threatening to close shut. "Or this j'st a dre'm?"

"Nah Sammy, no dream. I'm alive as alive can be. You can't get rid of me that easily."

Sam's lips slightly twitched upwards at Dean's words, and he gave into the weight forcing his eyelids to close shut, his slow and steady breaths now not causing his chest to move erratically as a new look of peace washed over his young features as he fell into the world of what Dean was hoping, was sleep.

Dean removed his hands from the younger boy's cheeks and grabbed the towel that still rested on his forehead. He frowned slightly as he noted the cool temperature had been literally over powered by the temperature of Sam's skin.

"Don't worry Sammy. You sleep. I'll be back in a few minutes." Dean explained, smiling slightly as he gently wiped back the bangs that stuck to his forehead.

He slowly trudged out of the room, looking back at the figure that now appeared to be sleeping in peace, and he felt his heart swirl.

The Sammy he remembered was still there.

-x-

It was when the large metal door closed is when Sam's eyes flew open, although they did not bring forward those innocent brown eyes…..or even the dreaded ebony black ones.

No, his eyes were neither one of those.

His was now someone much worse.

For now, his eyes burned a bright, vibrant yellow.

-x-

**A/N 2: Not my finest chapter I'll admit, I honestly thought it was terrible. The amount of times I rewrote this is beyond ridiculous, but it's what's happened in this chapter is an important factor in the main story line.  
If you're there staring at this like 'WHAAAAAA' I promise things will start to make more sense in future chapters!  
As usual thank-you so much for the reviews! Really appreciated!**

**Hoped you enjoyed!**

**-Lexii xx**


	11. Quantum Flux

**Chapter Eleven- Quantum Flux**

"_You were supposed to be watching him!" he growled fiercely, his bright, vibrant yellow eyes burning in pure malicious rage as they radiated profusely in the dimly lit room that was only illuminated by the never ending fires that continued to burn ruthlessly outside._

"_Azazel please!" the black eyed demon quivered before him, the fear escalating inside his soulless vessel as Azazel's voice continued to grow louder and louder with each word that was spoken. "I-I just took my eyes off him for a second-"_

"_And that second almost destroyed the centuries of precise planning and manipulation of the boy into finally siding with us!" Azazel spat, causing the black eyed demon to flinch involuntarily with each word as if they were clenched fists attacking his body. He had never seen, nor heard of Azazel becoming this livid in all of the centuries he had spent in Hell, but he knew well enough that if you have succeeded and caused one of the most powerful demons in all of Hell to become this infuriated, nothing could save you._

"_But I managed to stop him!" the black eyed demon exclaimed, trying to mask the unsteadiness of his voice as he tried to defend himself from his undetermined fate. _

"_You fool!" Azazel snarled in disgust. "He still saw them! Almost seven hundred years and I was just beginning to rid him of his damned self-righteousness and humanity and enhance his powers without the need of my blood. Now this!" Azazel exclaimed roughly, throwing both of his arms wide open for added emphasis. "Because of your inability to follow one simple order to not let the boy out of your sight, we're right back where we started from!" _

_His yellow eyes burnt brighter as his rage increased and he stared daggers into the black eyed demon cowering before him, taking in the satisfaction of the raw fear presented on its face. Azazel paced around the metal cell, each step causing the black eyed demon to inwardly cringe as his steps echoed in the otherwise empty and silent room. "Because of you he has that hope I spent years torturing out of him; that damned hope that I wasted so many precious years of my time torturing out of him instead of teaching him and training him how to reach his full potential with the gift I have given him!"_

"_But…But you can erase his memories! You can—"_

"_How dare you!" Azazel exclaimed grimly, his yellow eyes narrowed as he stared at the quivering black eyed demon. "How dare you try and tell me what to do! You're nothing but one mere broken soul surrounded by millions, and you have the nerve to order __**me**__, one of the most powerful demons in all of Hell to listen to __**you**__?!"_

"_Azazel! Please! I'm so sor—"_

"_Alistair will be looking forward to meeting you." Azazel taunted, his lips now spread wide in a sinister smirk as he watched the demon's black soulless eyes grow wide in fear at the mere mention of one of the most feared and twisted demons that ever graced Hell with his presence._

"_No! Please!" the nameless demon begged as he fell to the floor like a broken rag doll, grovelling at the yellow eyed demon's feet. "Not Alistair! Please! Anything but Alistair!" he begged as he crawled closer to the demon on his knees, both his hands clenched together in a begging manner._

"_Take him away." Azazel hissed, ignoring the pleas of the demon before him as he effortlessly flicked his hand in the air and telepathically opened the rusted metal door behind the quivering demon, revealing two large and stern black eyed demons now standing in the open doorframe._

"_Please! Just kill me!" the black eyed demon begged even louder as the two other demons approached him, easily looping their arms underneath his, and dragging the nameless demon with ease despite the flailing of his limbs and his desperate struggles to escape._

"_Death would be too easy." Azazel glared, a new sense of satisfaction swelling in his chest as he watched the demon struggle and plead for any other form of punishment as he was dragged out of the room, his screams never once ceasing as he was dragged down the eternal hallway._

_Once the demon had been removed from the room, Azazel turned and stared out the barred window, watching his disciples work around the burning flames, torturing both guilty and innocent souls, his mind deep in thought on how to handle the new obstacle in his devious plan._

"_So how exactly are you going to handle this situation Azazel?" a new voice asked, mimicking his thoughts. Azazel turned to the still open door frame to face the owner of the familiar voice. _

_Azazel scowled as he processed his options silently in his mind. A few moments passed in pure silence before he allowed a long, drawn out sigh to escape through his pursed lips. "As much as I hate to admit it, he was right. I have no other choice Meg."_

_The vessel Meg possessed cocked her blonde eyebrow upwards at Azazel's words. "But the risks…?"_

"_I know about the risks Meg." He snapped, hostility present in his tone as his eyes blazed brightly while he stared at the blonde headed petite figure before him. "Otherwise I would have just done that from day one instead of wasting precious years trying to break him." He sighed in frustration, his voice becoming lower. "But I can't afford not to. He saw them, both of them. And we are beyond lucky that they didn't notice him as well, otherwise it would have been all Hell to pay for that incompetent demon's mistake."_

"_Surely after almost seven hundred years this is nothing more than just a little set back?" Meg quizzed softly._

"_More than just a little set back?" Azazel repeated sarcastically, his yellow eyes flaring once more in anger and irritation. "You've met the boy. You've seen the stubbornness and determination he possesses. Now that he knows the truth about the one thing I have always been able to hold over his head and use to manipulate him, he'll never freely or fully cooperate again, regardless of how much we torture or manipulate him. He knows both of them are alive, and he'll do whatever it takes to find a way to get back to them now that he knows we've been lying to him for centuries…" he pauses, his yellow eyes and pursed lips growing sinisterly wide. "Unless…"_

"_Unless what?" Meg asks, her interest peaking._

"_Unless we have something over him that will give him no choice but to stay sided with us; even if he may be reunited with his dear family; something that would easily rid the idea that his dear 'family' would ever want him back." His sinister smile grew, almost twice as wide as it had been before. "Meg dear, locate John Winchester for me will you?"_

-x-

Dean rinsed the towel under the cool stream of water with his left hand, the smile that had presented itself on his face the moment Sam slurred his name had never once wavered from his face in the minutes that had passed, nor had the relief and new sense of hope and happiness that still lingered deep in his chest.

"Dean?" Bobby's softened, gruff voice called out behind him wearily. Over the past few days Bobby had learnt the hard way into just how unpredictable Sam's behaviour, words and actions could be; and from the beginning he knew that Sam's actions scarred Dean's memories and hope of his younger brother, but he had not been aware of just _how_ much it had scarred Dean. Well, that was until Dean's drunken confession, where he finally got a glimpse into what was running around in that boy's head during this whole… _situation_, and realised just how much it was affecting the young hunter he considered to be his own, both positively and negatively.

And he hated to admit that the scales between the two were more tilted to the negative side.

"You okay? How'd it go with Sam?" he asked genuinely, hoping that Dean would answer his first question before the second.

"He was in pain Bobby." Dean stated neutrally, the smile hidden from the older hunter disappearing instantly.

'_Of course not.' _Bobby internally thought, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the younger hunter. "Do you know why? What happened?"

Dean turned the stream of water off and squeezed the excess water from the towel. He sighed deeply as the heard his younger brother begging for the pain to stop in his mind and clenched either side of the white porcelain sink, gripping it tightly, still not turning to face the elder hunter behind him. "He begged me to make it stop, the pain." He said numbly, accepting the flaring pain soaring up his right arm at his tight grasp of the sink, savouring the pain as if he deserved it. "When I got down there he was covered in sweat and wouldn't stop shaking. I got a towel for him to try and get his temperature down, his skin was burning hot; but he told me he was so cold and his chest was on fire…" Dean stated softly as if were a checklist, his emerald eyes glistening with pain as his voice broke more than once as he relived that moment in his mind once more.

But then he remembered his brother's mumbled voice as he said his name and the small smile that drifted briefly across his brother's face when Dean confirmed he was still alive, that it was still him; and his smile returned and the happiness and hope and whatever other emotions he couldn't distinguish sparked alight once more in the pit of his stomach and chest.

Bobby's frown deepened, not just for the concern of the youngest Winchester, but also for the eldest living one that stood before him who was still refusing to look at Bobby. He stepped forward slowly, ready to offer the young hunter some sort of support; a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder, a few wise words, or hell, even a damned smile. But when Dean finally turned the confusion quickly overrode the empathy and need to reassure the young boy when he noticed the large and genuine smile lingering on Dean's face.

He cocked a questioning eyebrow at the younger boy, but said nothing, because well, he didn't know what to say. '_The boy sounded like he was on the brink of tears just before, now he's smiling like…like he used to...before.'_

"He remembers me Bobby." Dean gleamed, his faded emerald eyes now sparking alight as Bobby swore he saw the new hope settle deep within them. "He knew it was me, the moment he opened his eyes he knew it was me. It wasn't like last time Bobby. I could actually stand right next to him and actually touch him without him freaking out on me. You were right Bobby, that Sammy we both remember _is_ there deep down past all that fucked up shit in his head, and he remembers us as well, somewhere he knows. It'll just take more time."

Bobby's frown disintegrated into a smile as he felt his heart swell as he took in Dean's words and his enlightened persona beamed proudly with hope. "Of course he remembers you, ya idjit! You were like his own personal Superman! The kid practically worshiped the ground you walked on!" he genuinely laughed, playfully slapping the younger hunter on the back.

"Bobby, please. _Superman_?!" Dean scoffed. "If anything I was Batman. Everyone knows Batman's ten times more awesome than Superman." Dean grinned smugly, giving Bobby a glimpse of the cocky, smartass humour that Bobby hadn't been able to witness in what felt like eternity.

Sammy wasn't the only thing that had been taken away that fateful night.

It was as if the moment Sam had been taken away it had created this brutal ripple effect to mercilessly rip through the remaining Winchester men, changing both men, in two very different ways, and neither of them for the better.

It was as if that cursed demon had stolen Sammy away had also stolen away the most crucial part of the Winchesters life; and that was because it had. The moment the haunting reality hit both Winchesters the remaining happiness and the light of life that used to shine brightly through both their eyes dimmed into a painful darkness; a darkness bent on nothing but vengeance and revenge to avenge and possibly bring back the youngest Winchester.

The darkness affected both Winchester men, changing the men they used to be; but none more so than Dean.

It was as if the darkness had clouded away and banished all the characteristics that made Dean, _Dean_ from surfacing in this long and strenuous battle and obsession into finding Sammy and hunting down the demon responsible for this.

The first and most noticeable change happened when Dean was first discharged from the hospital. He sat in the back of the Impala and was met with a discarded and forgotten jacket belonging to his now 'missing' brother. The moment he realised who it had belonged to, he felt the familiar restriction of his throat, the painful dryness of his mouth and the sudden numbness of his jaw, a sensation he hadn't felt in ten long years since the death of his mother.

It's not that he _refused_ to speak; it was more like he physically _couldn't_. The only two words that seemed to be the only ones able to escape his mouth were the automatic response of 'yes sir' to one of his father's direct orders.

This went on for two and a half months.

That was until John and Bobby had tried everything they could possibly could and were at their wits end, especially his father whose patience was wearing close to thin. Until one night, John had barked an order at Dean to start talking again, and like every other order John implied on Dean, the younger Winchester followed it without argument, as if a switch had flipped on in his mind and allowed him to resume talking, screaming at him that if he didn't follow his father's orders, somehow, something bad would happen to someone else he loved.

Why?

Because the last time he ignored one of his father's rules and orders he lost Sam.

The second thing to falter and change in Dean was not only his interests but also his sly and charismatic flirtations he naturally possessed to make any girl, younger or older, weak in the knees, had hardly been seen or heard of in his teenage years.

Even at just fourteen years of age he was known as a lady killer, easily flirting and socialising with any girl that came his way and caught his eye as if it was as easy as loading a gun. But after _that night _Dean's interests with anything, whether it'd be sports or cars or even the opposite sex promptly wavered.

Bobby had witnessed the younger hunter's interest peaking whenever Dean saw a local football game or an attractive girl walk by, but he never acted on it. Instead he simply ignored the urge to join the game playing, or to flirt back with whatever girl that had tried to capture his attention, stating calmly that he didn't deserve to be pursuing his interests and having fun while Sammy was suffering through the unimaginable.

Although that didn't mean he didn't indulge in a 'quickie' once in a while.

And finally, the third, and in Bobby's opinion the worse change in Dean was unquestionably the drastic change in Dean's beloved persona and attitude that made Dean, _Dean_.

It was as if his smug, smartass of an attitude, that at times had managed to drive Bobby mental, had been traded for this grim and dark replacement, bent purely on this obsession into finding his stolen brother.

It was now a rarity to hear any of Dean's crude and sarcastic jokes to escape his mouth, when over six years ago they would flow freely and unconsciously from his mouth as if it was a second nature to him. Instead he was blunt, simple, cutting straight to the point, not wanting to waste any precious seconds that could have been used in his ongoing investigation and obsession.

It was no lie that Dean had to instantly grow up the moment his baby brother was thrown into his arms, giving up his entire childhood to raise Sammy the way he thought any child should have deserved; _how Dean had deserved to_. Although at fourteen he acted more of a grown adult then most adults Bobby knew, there were still small moments in Dean's life where he allowed himself to give into the temptation and act his actual age, most preferably when he conducted the most impressive, yet despised practical jokes on his brother, father and at times even Bobby, laughing endlessly until he could barely breathe at his victims

But after that night, the somewhat innocent Dean Winchester was no more. There was no more childish jokes, no more endless fits of laughter.

And God, did Bobby missed that laugh.

Bobby even struggled to pin point the last time he had actually heard a genuine laugh that was not forced to escape Dean's lips; and the idea that the reason he wasn't able to remember was because there wasn't a time _to_ remember actually physically hurt him.

"So what? I must be the freaking butler aye?" he glared sheepishly at the beaming hunter before him.

And for the first time since Sam had disappeared, he finally heard Dean genuinely laugh once again.

-x-

_His fogged and heavy mind began to clear as a new sense of warmth enveloped his body and the fading of the blackness surrounding him began to coax the youngest Winchester out of the deep abyss of unconsciousness; and for once, Sam fought his way back into the darkness that had previously encased him._

_Because, for once since he had been introduced into the horrifying reality that was Hell, this darkness did not present the excruciating pain and merciless torture that he had grown used to experiencing whenever he was willingly or unwillingly conscious not._

_No. For once there were no screams of millions of nameless broken and tortured souls echoing endlessly in the dark abyss, surrounding the young teenager with their desperate cries and pleads for mercy as the sound of bones breaking, blood splattering and flesh being torn apart mixed with their fraught screams for the pain to stop.  
For once there wasn't the grotesque stench of burning and rotting flesh invading his nostrils and burning the extremities of his nose and throat to the point the young teenager would collapse harshly onto the darkened ground and painfully dry heave for what seemed like hours at a time.  
For once the fear and uncertainty of his undetermined fate didn't wreak havoc in the pit of his stomach at the haunting and torturous possibilities he'd have to face when he finally allowed his eyes to open once more and bring himself back to the land of the living; or in what seemed to be his case, the living dead.  
And for once, he didn't have to relive his brother's screams and grunts of pain from echoing louder than all the other nameless souls combined, nor did he have the painful image of his bloodied brother's limp body bound tightly to that damned wooden chair. _

_Dead. _

_Because of him._

_Those images always lingered and continued to haunt him whether he was conscious or not._

_Instead, this darkness bough forward a somewhat foreign feeling of warmth and calmness; a feeling he feared, and never expected to feel or experience again in the remainder of his life._

_In this darkness, there was no sense of fear or the haunting memories from all the horror he had witnessed and experienced. Instead all that echoed was his elder brother's stern, yet still soothing voice calling soft reassurances to him; and the only smell that seemed to linger was the distinctive bitter aroma of gunpowder and worn leather that always seemed to cling to Dean, despite how many times he showered or even how dirty he managed to get._

_For once, in this darkness he finally felt safe._

"_Sam. Sammmy." A voice song-sung, banishing his brother's voice as the youngest Winchester found himself fading out of the abyss of darkness._

"_Sam. Sammmmmmmy." The foreign voice repeated, harsher this time and he felt his nose scrunch in annoyance and confusion as he found himself unable to identify just who it belonged to. All he knew is that it didn't belong to Dean, and he didn't want anything to do with anything other than Dean._

"_Sam." The voice growled impatiently and forcefully, bringing forth a dreaded feeling in the pit of his stomach that screamed at him to not give and allow the new white light that had been bought forth around him; a light he had grown accustomed to over the years to whenever he was just seconds away from becoming conscious once more._

_Suddenly he felt his right shoulder ignite in pain, ruthlessly flaring and burning throughout his whole body. His screams of pain could no longer be heard as the blinding white light took advantage of Sam's pain and finally engulfed him._

-x-

He shot up from the thin, worn mattress, grasping his shoulder as it continued to burn in pain, blood seeping through the cracks of his fingers. He panted hard from the pain, his breath jagged and thick as he waited for the pain to recede he clenched his eyes tightly shut. As quickly as the pain ignited it faded, leaving behind a shaking Sam who tried to breathe slowly to ease the racing of his heart.

Slowly he opened his eyes, the intensity of the lighting causing him to wince slightly as pain shot through his head. Soon, the large black specs that invaded his vision slowly faded, revealing he was still trapped in what the Dean imposter had once called the 'panic room'.

He glanced at his now painless shoulder and held back the gasp of the straight, bloodied abrasion that had been sliced through his flesh, the sleeve of his white t-shirt now bloodied and ripped.

Sam instantly knew it was too smooth to be anything other than a knife wound.

He slowly glanced around the room, suddenly feeling that something wasn't exactly right in the pit of his stomach. Everything seemed to move in slow motion followed by a ghostly trail as his spinning mind struggled to keep up and process the room around him. He clenched his eyes tightly shut once more, gripping both his hands to his temples, massaging them slightly as the headache pulsated through him in sharp pains.

Wait, his hands?!

Within an instant he opened his eyes and pulled away his hands from his head, noticing for the first time since he had awakened that he was no longer tethered to the metal frame of the bed.

"Why the hell would they untie me?" he muttered absentmindedly.

This didn't make sense. None of it did.

"Because they didn't." Stated the voice that Sam instantly recognised to be the one who had been calling his name before.

Sam's head snapped up in the direction to where the voice had come from, and he stumbled off the bed and stood upright, his vision immediately being invaded with the large black specs again.

He blinked hard; once; twice; three times, trying to force the blackness away. Fractions of his vision came back and he got short glimpses at the figure before him.

Like Sam the figure was wearing a clean white t-shirt, he was tall and slightly skinny, hardly intimidating, he had thick brown hair wisped over his forehead and-

Wait.

_It was him._

Sam was staring at…himself?

"W-what?" he asked groggily, the added level of confusion did not ease the throbbing of his mind.

"It's about time you woke up!" the other version of himself huffed impatiently, his voice quite a few decibels too high and sending Sam's pain receptors in turmoil. He let out a hiss of pain as it vaulted through him, and once again clutched both sides of his head in pain, praying that the shaking of his limbs wouldn't make him fall anytime soon.

"Sorry about that." The other version of himself smiled unsympathetically, and with a click of his finger's the pain immediately disappeared. Sam pulled the tear in the ripped shirt open, revealing unscarred and undamaged skin beneath it.

"Who are you!" Sam demanded, his reflexes quick after the initial shock, as hostility coated his voice.

The other version of himself allowed a slightly amused laugh to escape through his lips. "What? Don't recognise yourself Sammy?" he grinned tauntingly.

"You're not me." he growled, his brown eyes narrowed as he studied the figure before him, determining if he was able to take himself on if he needed to.

"Okay! You caught me!" The other version of himself said amused, throwing open both his arms in a mock sign of surrender. "I'll give you a little hint Sammy." The other version smirked, his brown eyes disintegrating to blazing yellow orbs.

"Azazel." Sam breathed, his face neutral but tone a mixture of fear and hostility.

"Ding ding ding!" Azazel exclaimed. "We have a winner!"

"What…what are you doing here?"

"I needed to check on my favourite little pupil." Azazel smiled, causing Sam to flinch slightly. "My, my Sammy. Got yourself in a bit of trouble here don't you?" he said a-matter-of-factly as he paced around, carefully observing the panic room.

Sam swallowed hard and refused to comment as he followed Azazel's gaze around the small room, frowning slightly when he observed the giant devil trap painted perfectly on the ceiling.

"How are you able to move?" Sam asked the yellow eyed demon before him, his eyebrow cocked in confusion as he ushered his head upwards.

Azazel followed his gaze upwards and smiled at the oblivious boy standing before him. "Haven't figured it out yet Sammy?" he teased knowingly.

Sam's frown deepened at Azazel's words and looked into the yellow eyes that incorporated his own body, his face masked with determination, his patience wearing thin at the demon's game.

The other Sam's face smiled a sinister and knowing grin to the teenager before him, the sight of the sinister smile plastered on his own face immediately sent shivers running down Sam's spine. "You're telling me you seriously haven't noticed the other person in the room?" Azazel smiled, tilting his head to the side, smiling when he watched the determined glance melt off Sam's face and morph into confusion.

Sam slowly cased the room before him, and felt his breath promptly get caught in his throat when he finally caught sight of what, or more who, Azazel was referring to.

His eyes were wide with shock and he could feel the trembling of his body as he processed the seemingly unconscious figure lying before him on the rusted bedframe and worn mattress he had been sitting on only moments ago, silently searching its features for any kind of indifferences between himself and yet another version of Sam.

"Who the hell is in that one?" he glared at Azazel, who still remained in an exact replica of Sam.

"Nobody at the moment Sam." Azazel grinned sheepishly, watching the remaining reminiscences of colour drain from the boy's cheeks.

"Am I dead?" he stuttered, his heart racing; the voice loud and precise in his mind, although it came out as more of a broken whisper.

"Dead?!" Azazel laughed genuinely amused. "No Sam, you're not dead. Think of it as more of an 'out of body experience' Sam."

"What the fuck is going on?!" Sam questioned fiercely, his head reeling in confusion.

"Language Sam!" Azazel scowled, before sighing. "Think of it this way, to the rest of the outside world, excluding me that is, you're merely asleep, or unconscious. At this moment your body is like a vessel, just waiting to be freely possessed without that bothersome and pathetic fight those humans tend to first do when a demon tries and enters them. But not just any demon are able to do this. As far as I know there is only a very small amount of demons actually able to do such a thing."

"And let me guess, you're one of them." Sam snorted sarcastically.

"I'm the only one boy." Azazel grinned sinisterly and proudly, sending an array of goosebumps to attack the younger teenagers flesh.

"So what are you waiting for then? Possess me." Sam tested, narrowing his brown eyes once more.

"You didn't let me finish." Azazel snapped harshly, maintaining his anger as quickly as it had appeared. "It's not possession per say, it's more…sleepwalking, and talking, but to any others you come across you're perfectly awake, it's just you don't exactly have the control while you're asleep or unconscious."

"How the hell does that even work?!" Sam asked spitefully, his face morphed into an angered and confused scowl. "Why?"

"All these questions." Azazel sighed bitterly. "With my blood still in your system it makes our…" he trails off, clicking his tongue as he searches for the correct word. "connection…stronger. Usually I can just easily enter a human's subconscious and have a little fun in there; making them forget or remember things, planting false memories, yada yada. But I can also control their dreams, manipulate them to see what I want them to see…"

Slowly the gears turned in the youngest Winchester's mind at Azazel's new information and the reality dawned on him. "So, that's why that devils trap doesn't affect you? You're making me dream this very conversation while I'm already in another dream, hence the other, other Sam?" Sam asked nudging his head towards the version of himself still tethered to the rusted bedframe.

"I knew you'd be able to figure it out!" Azazel beamed.

"So what? You're basically hijacking my dreams to tell me what? That you hijack dreams?" Sam stated coldly, burning daggers into the yellow eyes before him.

Azazel lets out a small laugh as he once again begins to pace around the metal room. "On the contrary Sammy, I'm here to get you out of here."

-x-

**A/N: I know. Been a long time aye Lexii? **

**And really all I can honestly say is that this chapter did not want to be written.  
I'm being serious.  
First whenever I started to write this, I found myself writing a completely different story; so I just eventually gave in and wrote it.  
(I Just Wish I Was There Before; look it up and tell me what you think!)  
And when I finally had been able to pull something out of my head and was on the last paragraph, a virus decided it was the perfect time to attack my computer and destroy EVERYTHING I had written for Six Years, that chapter included. :(**

**So here's a super long chapter to hopefully make up for it!**

**The reviews and PM I'm receiving are absolutely wonderful, like words cannot describe!  
Thankyou all so much to the constant and random reviewers and all those who favourite and followed! I was overwhelmed from the last chapter!  
Remember feedback, constructive criticism, ideas and new reviewers are always welcome!  
I'd really like to know what you think may be coming up, or even what you'd like to see!**

**I hoped you enjoyed!**

**-Lexii xo**


	12. Thunderstruck Realisation

**A/N- I'm sorry, WHAT?! Log back on to update to discover I had almost twenty more reviews than I had last time. I literally choked on nothing. You guys are awesome!**

**So as a treat I wrote like a madman and put aside EVERYTHING and well here you are! The chapter I'm guessing most of you have been waiting for!**

**And once again; thankyou to the constant and new reviewers! I know my updating schedule can be unpredictable and that has made me loose some valued readers and reviewers, so thankyou to those who have stuck by me! **

**Hope you enjoy!**

**(Think we can get to the triple digit reviews before next update? (; )**

**-Lexii xo**

**Chapter Twelve: Thunderstruck Realisation**

Sam couldn't resist but to scoff at the yellow eyed demon's words. "And just how do you suppose you're going to do that? They're _hunters_ Azazel. It's more than likely that there's devil trap _everywhere_, and I'm fairly certain they know a thing or two about killing demons. So please, do tell me how you expect to get me out of here when you can't even enter the freaking house?!" Sam spat, surprised on how freely and how impertinently he had allowed himself to speak to one of the most feared and powerful demons in all of Hell.

_If he wasn't careful he was going to cop it once he got back to Hell._

"My, my, my Sammy. I'm offended with the amount of hope you have in me." Azazel said sarcastically, seemly unfazed by Sam's outburst, his voice and face neutral, although his yellow eyes did now radiate a fraction brighter than they did before. "Have you been listening at all?!" Azazel laughed bitterly, staring at the young teenager before him. "I can still gain control of your body for a short amount of time; enough time to combine what remaining energy you possess with mine to help free you from those restraints they have used to chain you to the bed like an animal…"

"Yeah, I recall you doing that to me too, and other things that are a hundred times worse." Sam muttered unconsciously, the bitterness and hostility that his body had possessed escaped in a wave as it was replaced with nothing but pure and raw fear as he noted the enraged expression morphed into his own features before him, the yellow eyes where his brown's should be blazed angrily in his sockets.

_He was so going to cop it._

Taking in a deep breath, Azazel attempted to ease the fierce glowing of his eyes that had fiercely ignited and the pure malicious anger that pulsated through his veins that the sixteen year old's words. Forcing himself to remain calm, he pushed aside the mental note to conduct some sort of punishment for Sam's disrespectful words for later, knowing that he had to get the boy back in line and remind him just who was in charge.

"As I was saying," Azazel began, his jaw clenched with tension as he chose to ignore Sam's words, knowing that he needed to do whatever was remotely necessary in order to make sure that the boy stayed sided with him. "I'll help assist with the removal of the restraints, and then will proceed to momentarily take down the one that calls himself Dean, because without a doubt he will be the one watching you." He paced around the room once more, gingerly rubbing the other Sam's chin thoughtfully. "Now, because this whole process needs to contribute a lot of energy and power, he will not be able to stay unconscious for long, so in that time I will allow you to regain back full control of your body, in which time you will get the keys out of his right breast pocket, and make your way out of the house and outside, where I will be waiting for you." Azazel paused in his strides and stared directly at the now silent teenager standing before him. "Is that clear boy?"

Sam nodded numbly, his mind still struggle to process the idea that after days of spiteful and crude threatening he was finally escaping, _wherever this was_. Funny thing was, suddenly he wasn't sure _if_ he wanted to escape.

"I said, is that clear boy." Azazel growled, his blazing eyes demanding that Sam should remember who was in charge.

Sam flinched at the harshness of his tone and tried to stabilise the shakiness of his voice. "Yes Azazel." He said obediently, having to learn the hard way of what happens if you were to reply with anything different besides that or 'Yes sir'.

"So what do you do once I free you and you gain back control of your body?" Azazel tested, his eyes narrowed as he studied the boy before him, noting the hesitance and resistance Sam had to look at him.

"Get the keys and get out. Simple." Sam recounted instantly, breathing deeply to ease the tension subsided in his body and to hopefully ease the heavy feeling he couldn't distinguish deep in the pit of his stomach; a feeling screaming at him to not listen to a single word the yellow eyed demon said infront of him and defile his orders.

"Good boy." Azazel smiled widely, sending another chill to brutally ricochet down Sam's spine as he stared at the sinister smirk Azazel had formed on his own face before him.

Much to Sam's relief, the smile on the other Sam's lips formed soon wavered and morphed into singular straight line, his eyebrows bent downwards as he took his eyes off Sam and glanced at the large iron door. "He should be arriving any second now." Azazel informed, his body noticeably becoming tense. "I'm going to start on phase one of the plan and make sure he stays here." He stated looking back at Sam, who obediently nodded in understanding. "You'll still will be here in the room, and see and hear everything that both of us are saying," Azazel notified Sam as he made his way to Sam's bound and lifeless body that laid limply on the bed. "But neither of us will be able to hear you." He lied smoothly, "Understand boy?"

"Yes sir." Sam replied instantly, as if he were a trained dog.

"Good." Azazel said once more, clearly satisfied.

Sam watched cautiously as Azazel leant over the other, other Sam and gripped both sides of the unconscious figure's head tightly. Sam flinched slightly as he felt the pressure Azazel was implying on both sides of his own head, and instinctively grasped his head through his dark, mattered locks, trying to pry away the invisible force that seemed to be beginning to crush his own skull.

Azazel's yellow eyes illuminated the other, other Sam's face as he stared intently at the unconscious figure laid before him, gripping his grasp on either side of the figure's head tighter and tighter. Sam clenched his eyes tightly shut as the pressure increased and he bit down his tongue to withhold the whimper of pain that was struggling to escape.

Sam could slightly hear Azazel's faded and disarrayed voice chanting some kind of incantation deep in the back of his mind as the pressure continued to grow heavily on his skull, threatening to break the bones inside his head. Sam felt his limbs becoming weak under the immense pressure, blackness creeping though his mind and at that moment Sam was sure he was going to collapse, or pass out; until finally, the pressure faded as quickly as it had begun.

"You're ready." Azazel stated calmly, ignoring the desperate panting of the teenage still clutching his head tightly as he removed his hands from the boy's head and stood next to the metal frame, easing himself closer and closer to the unconscious figure before him.

A sleek layer of sweat had coated his forehead and Sam hastily wiped it away with the back of his shaking hand, his body still slightly trembling and weak from the aftermath of, well, whatever _that _was.

Though the pressure and pain had disintegrated, his mind was still fogged and disoriented as shadowy figures seemed to be the only thing he could see. A figure that was clearly Azazel leant further over the unconscious Sam, and Sam swore he could feel the demon's hot breath blasting in his face.

Sam gasped and collapsed onto the hard, cold floor when he felt Azazel literally fall into his bound body, swiftly knocking out the breath from his lungs. Another invisible force had seemed to settle heavily on his chest, weighing it down and restricting the frantic need for oxygen that his lungs so desperately craved for as they burned and clawed for the air to escape and to be inhaled.

The figure on the bed launched forward and gasped as if it had been deprived of air for hours, and suddenly Sam was finally able to breathe once again. He heaved himself up into a sitting position, his limbs unnaturally heavy and weak as he greedily gasped for the air to re-enter his lungs. The blackness soon faded from his vision as he watched the bound figure's yellow eyes slowly fade into Sam's brown, before collapsing back down onto the thin mattress, the clanking of the metal on metal contact seemed to vibrate through the walls.

On shaking limbs Sam stood and approached the metal bed, his breathing still erratic and mind still fogged as he attempted to study the figure before him with cautious eyes. He went to grasp onto the metal frame at the end of the bed in an attempt to successfully keep his body upright, only to find his now transparent hand flailing through it, almost making Sam fall once again on the floor.

Slowly the metal door creaked open, revealing the captor that called himself 'Dean', who was holding a slightly damp towel in his uncasted hand, and now Sam struggled to pinpoint just how that casted hand came to be.

_There definitely wasn't a lot of blood in his system._

He wasn't entirely sure why, but over the past few withdrawals, he had been able to only slightly remember his actions during the last few days of his dose; and he wasn't sure if he wanted to or not.

_Maybe he was adapting._

"Hurts." Azazel painfully muttered childishly, his voice a perfect replica of his own.

"I do not sound like that." Sam scowled defensively, his eyebrow cocked in surprise when he noticed the struggling of the other, other Sam's lips from creating a smirk.

"Here." The man said softly, walking around Sam as he kneeled down beside the bed frame and gently placed the cool, wet towel on the other, other Sam's forehead. A shiver vibrated through Sam's spine the moment the wet fabric made contact with the flesh of the bound Sam and he gasped involuntarily.

"Too cold." Azazel wined, bringing forth Sam's thoughts, and Sam once again scowled from how _weak _Azazel was making him out to be.

"Suck it up, bitch." The man grinned sheepishly.

"Jerk." Sam said automatically, his eyes growing instantly wide at his unconscious reflex.

"Hey, you okay? You're a bit tense." The man said, his tone tinged with worry as he gently grasped the bound Sam's bicep.

"'M fine." Azazel muttered hastily, his own worry forming when he heard Sam instantly reply to Dean as if it was a natural occurrence for him.

_He can't let the boy remember._

Meanwhile, Sam, who was completely oblivious to Azazel's sudden tension continued to watch his captor cautiously. He stepped forward to the younger hunter that called himself 'Dean', and narrowed his eyes as he closely studied the man's features. A sense of familiarity vaulted through him as he noted the short, blonde spiked hair, the chiselled jaw, the small number of freckles that brushed across his nose and cheeks; and for the first time in his non-delirious state, he finally noted the green ember that burnt brightly in his eyes, those eyes he was certain he had seen once before.

The man's eyes and facial characteristics seemed so familiar, yet so unfamiliar at the same time; it was as if no matter how thoroughly he searched through his mind he just couldn't place _where_ he had seen this man before.

The only person Sam could compare the man to, was…Dean?

"It can't be…" Sam muttered, reaching a hand out to the crouched figure before him.

"No!" Azazel shouted suddenly, launching up into a sitting position, his arms tightly pulled behind him sending a shooting pain firing down his own arms.

_He can hear me… _Sam thought silently, the realisation masking the pain that surged through him.

"Sammy! Sammy! What's wrong?!" The man said, giving his full undivided attention to the other, other Sam.

Sammy. Whenever Azazel said it, all Sam wanted to do was punch that smug grin that always accompanied it right off his face. But when this man, this stranger, it felt right… It felt like _Dean_.

_Dean._

_No. It can't be. _

_Dean's dead. _

_You watched him die._

_You saw the injuries he received when he was trying to protect you all those years ago._

_You might as well inflicted them yourself._

_Azazel brought him to hell, to prove he was really dead, to prove it was your fault._

_Why would Azazel lie?_

_Because he's a demon that's why! _

_Can this man, really be Dean? _

_He's been saying for days that it's him._

_Is it?_

_No matter what threats you threw at him, he never once said he wasn't Dean. _

"Don't leave me." Azazel pleaded as the man slowly ushered him to lie back down on the bed, knocking Sam out of his conflicting and contradicting thoughts.

"I'll never leave you again." The man swore with genuine sincerity and determination. "I'm never leaving you again, bitch." He smiled, moving away one of the other, other Sam's bangs away from his face, his fingers grazing gently across his forehead, the touch jolting through Sam himself as he found himself lost in a memory he almost forgot he had experienced.

-x-

"_Bitch." Nine year old Dean muttered to his little brother._

"_Dean!" Still four year old Sam exclaimed bewildered. "That's a naughty word! Dad and Miss Greyson said you're not allowed to say words like that!"_

"_Do you see Dad or Miss Greyson here?" Dean grinned sheepishly._

"_Dean!" Sam exclaimed once more, his brown eyes widening greatly in shock._

"_What bitch?" Dean taunted, that defiant smile still plastered proudly on his face. "Gunna tell on me?" he tested, cocking his eyebrow at his younger brother in both a questioning and warning manner._

_The shock that had been presented on the four year old's face soon morphed into a scowl and Sam huffed harshly and stared at the concrete ground beneath him, purposely making each stride as loud as he could as he continued to walk beside his older brother._

"_That's what I though bitch." Dean said smugly, amused by his brother's innocent childish behaviour._

_Sam's scowl deepened and he searched through his young mind, trying to form some sort of comeback so Dean wouldn't bask in the glory of winning another pointless battle between them. He searched deeper, trying to remember what words Miss Greyson told the class they shouldn't say because they were bad and rude words, trying to find one that wasn't as bad as what Dean had said._

"_Jerk." He huffed boldly._

_Dean let out a hysterical laugh at his younger brother's retort and looped his arm around his little brother's shoulders. "Only to you little brother, only to you."_

_-_x-

Sam suddenly felt nauseous as the truth he had spent days refusing to accept finally dawned on him.

_It was Dean._

He stumbled backwards, his breath harshly getting caught in his throat as his brown eyes grew wide, transfixed on the living, breathing, older brother that he had been convinced had been dead for so many years.

The longer he stared, the fiercer the whirlwind of emotions relentlessly surged through him, battling a fiery battle deep in the pit of his stomach to the point Sam was sure he was going to throw up.

He honestly wasn't sure _what _he should be feeling at this very moment.

He knew somewhere in the deep and complex mixture of emotions that there was some form of happiness and relief spiralling through him at the fact that Dean was still _alive_; that after so many years of torturous nightmares and flashbacks that haunted Sam from _that night,_ Dean had been strong enough to survive, that he had fought against the reaper's touch, and that he had _won._

But the happiness and relief were nothing but a faded dullness, almost forgotten in the complicated mixture as other emotions began to grow and making themselves mercilessly present.

A spasm of guilt and remorse rattled through him as the vague memories of what _Sam _had done in the time since he had first awakened in the foreign room presented themselves with little to no mercy. He remembered the vile threats that had rolled off his tongue in venom as he continued to threaten his own brother, the pleasure he took as he saw the green embers in his eyes fade away as if what Sam had said had _broken _him, and he remembered breaking into his own brother's flesh with his bare teeth, desperate for some kind of hit to calm the painful withdrawal that attacked his body.

However, as painful as those memories were, none of these could compare to the undetermined possibilities of what he had tried to do _before _he had awoken in that room. He searched through his blackened mind half hoping, half fearing he would find the repressed memories that refused to make themselves known.

He wasn't sure what to think when his mind came up blank.

But what surged more than the happiness or the relief or the guilt or the remorse, was the anger and betrayal that scorched his insides raw. He was angered at himself for accepting the lies that Azazel had fed him over the years, resisting the urge to question the yellow eyed demons motives just to prevent another day at the mercy of one of his followers, but he was infuriated at Azazel for the blame of Dean's death he had tortured and tormented Sam with every living moment, for diminishing his hope, for taking advantage of the trust Sam had been practically manipulated to give, forced in the most brutal of ways for the dependence of the yellow eyed demon that could make the pain go away.

_How could he be so stupid?!_

Sam's breath was heavy, enraged, as he watched with narrow eyes at his body in which the yellow eyed demon possessed, pressed firmly against the side of _his _older brother. The older brother, who, Sam realised, would be forced into unconsciousness in only a few minutes.

Panic ignited as Azazel's plan echoed in his mind, the plan that was supposed to help Sam _escape_.

But Sam didn't want to escape. He had _no need_ to escape.

Panic ignited in his chest when he watched an invisible force silently loosen the handcuff grasped around the other, other Sam's wrist, to quietly and delicately to be noticed by his oblivious brother.

_He had to stop him from hurting Dean. But how?!_

At this very moment felt like he was the helpless ten year old once more, cowering away in the darkness, unable to think, or do, anything that could potentially help his older brother who was clearly in danger.

_Never again. _He silently swore, vigorously shaking his head to rid the impending memory from his mind, his face morphing into a determined gaze as he stared at the other, other Sam, knowing that now was his chance to protect Dean like he should have done all those years ago.

It was the slight yellowy flash in his bound body's eyes that set him into the unconscious motion, not even registering that he was now running towards his bound and possessed body in a blind rage; clenched fist raised infront of him as he lunged forward, his transparent fist disappearing deep into his infatuated body.

A painful scream clawed up both of their throats as the agonising pain was mirrored between both Sam and Azazel as their chests tightened and pain receptors were set ablaze.

Azazel lurched forward as he exhaled the agonising scream, clenching Sam's eyes firmly closed in fear that his yellow eyes would unconsciously present themselves and jeopardise his devious plan. Sam's equally loud, and painful scream echoed erratically in his ears and mind and the malicious anger began to bubble in his veins at the realisation that Sam had turned on him.

Dean scrambled off the bed and grasped both sides of the other, other Sam's shoulders, his emerald eyes wide and full of panic and worry. "Sam?! Sammy?! What's wrong!" he called frantically, his mind running rabid trying to process what could explain the sudden outburst.

Sam's screams had now eased into heavy pants as he now found himself elbow deep in his body's chest, having absolutely no idea what he was doing or what he was trying to find; until he felt the unnatural warmth lace through his fingers and he instinctively grasped it tightly, the orb of pure energy scorching his hands raw from its immense heat. Instantly Sam knew what, or more _who_ he was grabbing and forced himself to ignore the screams from his mind to let go as his pain receptors begged and screamed in agony from the sweltering heat burning his skin.

As Sam's grip tightened around the fiery orb in determination Azazel gasped sharply, feeling himself slowly losing the connection and control of Sam's bound body. Sam pulled sharply, trying to jerk Azazel free from his body and at that moment the other, other Sam collapsed back down onto the thin mattress suddenly, the possessed body sharply convulsing and writhing with each pull Sam inflicted.

"Sammy?! Open your eyes goddamn it!" Dean ordered bitterly as he tried to hold down the convulsing body of his little brother. "Don't you dare pass out on me again! I swear to God!" He cursed, climbing onto Sam's bound body and straddling him, restricting his movements. "Bobby! Get your ass down here now!" He bit gruffly. "Bobby! Now!" he called out, his voice becoming more frantically and desperate each time he called the older hunter, waiting until he heard the heavy footsteps scurrying around upstairs.

Sam felt his energy wearing thin as the pain savagely attacked him, weakening and tiring his limbs as he desperately tried to jerk the burning element free from his possessed body.

"Sammy, c'mon, you gotta fight goddamn it!" Dean exclaimed shaking his little brother's shoulders. "Fight!"

_Fight._

That singular word sent his motivation, strength and determination ablaze. The excruciating pain dulled into a forgotten whisper in the back of his mind as he felt the adrenaline surge through him. Biting his lip down harshly, the brown embers in his eyes glowed brightly as he gathered all the remaining adrenaline and energy his body possessed, and with one giant jerk his hand came free from the confinements of his bound body's chest, successfully dragging the duplication of himself that had blazing yellow eyes.

Dean's panicked cries went unheard as Sam's bound body now rested limply on the thin mattress, trapped with no soul or form of energy accompanying it.

Sam's eyes grew wide as he found himself clutching the neck of his other self, staring transfixed in fear as the yellow eyes stared daggers into his soul.

Azazel growled almost animal-like and cuffed Sam's hand away from his neck, causing Sam to stumble and loose his footing as he flew backwards by the unexpected attack. Azazel's eyes grew wide when he saw where Sam was to fall and desperately clawed for him, desperate not to allow the young teenager to fall into his empty, bound body.

Sam's limbs flailed as he fell backwards almost in slow motion. He grasped wildly in the air in a feasible attempt to retain his balance, but failed miserably as gravity claimed victor and he fell into a dark abyss.

Within seconds the darkness faded and Sam lurched forward, desperately gasping for the oxygen his lungs had seemed to lose. He panted hard, his vision blurred and black and he clenched his eyes shut, trying to regain and ease his erratic breathing.

"Sammy?" A hushed voice whispered as a warm hand gently cupped his cheek.

"Dean?" he murmured, his eyes in slits as he observed the blackened figure infront of him.

"NO!" Another voice growled and Sam flinched, knowing exactly who it belonged to.

"Yeah, it's me. You alright kiddo? You had me scared there." Dean laughed, although stating the raw truth.

_He had to protect Dean. _

"Get away from me." Sam growled as hostile as he could, his heart aching as he felt Dean's hand move away from his cheek.

"Sammy."

"Don't Sammy me." He snapped, eyes narrowed. "I never want to see you again. Leave."

"No." Dean stated firmly.

"Face it Sammy. You can't get rid of him. I'll kill him before you even get the chance." Azazel mocked in his ear, sending a painful chill down his spine.

"Leave." He stated once more, forcing his voice to stay pure and bitter.

"No." Dean replied with the same, if not more bitter and determined tone. "I told you I'm never leaving you again, and I won't. It's my fault they took you in the first place, and I'll do whatever it takes for you to realise you're safe again."

Sam swore he felt his chest cave in at Dean's words and blame he put on himself.

"You'll never be safe Sam. Neither will he." Azazel sinisterly laughed in his mind, echoing over and over again.

_Be the monster you have to be. Make sure he'll never want to see your face until you can make sure he's safe again._

Sam curled his lips into a sinister smirk and laughed bitterly, pretending he took pleasure at the sudden paleness of his older brother. "You are so pathetic." He laughed once more, feeling as if he had just been sucker punched. "You'd do anything to believe that I'm still that innocent ten year old boy wouldn't you? Well here's a newsflash Dean. That innocent ten year old died that day, he no longer exists. Over seven hundred and twenty years will do that to you Dean. Yeah, that's right, over seven hundred and twenty years. One month in Earth time? Ten years down under. Seven hundred and twenty years of nothing but pain, torture and even more pain every minute of every day, from the moment you wake up to the moment you pass out from the amount of pain. And you know what Dean? You're right. It's all your fault."

"THAT'S ENOUGH!" Bobby's enraged voice yelled loudly, vibrating through the walls. He glanced over to the silent, almost catatonic Dean that stood there, gaping like a fish out of water with tears glistening in his eyes. Bobby stared at Sam, and instinctively cocked his shotgun he held firmly in his hands, partly for a warning, partly to ease the anger that was brewing in his veins. "Let's go Dean." He stated, calmer this time, as he placed a hand on the younger hunter's shoulder and guided him out of the room.

Bobby looked back with a death glare that shook Sam to the core. "If you weren't his brother I woulda shot ya the moment I laid eyes on ya. I'm starting to wish you weren't." and with that Bobby slammed the iron door shut behind him, leaving behind a guilty and broken Sam.

"I must say, that was quite entertaining." Azazel grinned as he materialised before the bound Sam.

"Why can I see you?" Sam growled, his brown orbs full of unshed tears that were threatening to spill in any given second.

"Because I wanted you too." Azazel snapped, refusing to elaborate. "Now Sammy, tell me why you defiled my orders." He glared, his blazing yellow eyes revealing he already knew the truth.

"I'm not going to let you hurt Dean ever again." Sam growled.

The other Sam's eyes narrowed and he rose his hand forward and flicked it in the air, satisfied with the painful howls escaping through Sam's mouth as the sickening sound of his now broken arm echoed through the metal room. "Then I will have no choice but to hurt you until you comply."

"I'll never help you! I'll never go back to you!" Sam spat through his clenched teeth. "This isn't real! You said so yourself. You can torture me as long as you want to. You can slice my skin to ribbons, break every bone in my body one by one, set me on fire or anything else all you want, but I will NEVER turn against Dean again, and I'm NEVER going back to hell with you and working as your mindless soldier."

"Do you think he'll really want you Sam?!" Azazel laughed humourlessly. "Do you really think that your precious little Dean would want to know how many people you've _killed_? How many people _you_ have sliced and diced? How you're a demon blood addict? How you're responsible for your own father's death?"

"I had nothing to do with his death!" Sam barked defensively.

"Oh Sammy, you had _everything _to do with your father's death."

"You got him killed didn't you?!" Sam stated enraged, the bone almost breaking through his arm now forgotten as nothing but pure malicious rage radiated through his veins.

Azazel ignored his comment and smiled sinisterly. "Do you really think Dean would want anything to do with you when he finds out _you_ were the one who killed his father?"

-x-

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